


The Ties Severed, The Ties That Bind

by oceansgrey



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Background LeoPika - Freeform, Dark Continent Arc, Families of Choice, Succession Contest Arc (Hunter X Hunter), kuroro-oito sibling theory, mostly chrollo-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:00:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 40,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22906648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceansgrey/pseuds/oceansgrey
Summary: "Oito hums the same song she used to sing to her little siblings to Woble as a lullaby, the words long forgotten but not the tune.Chrollo sometimes hums a song to himself, the words long forgotten but not the tune."Oito lost her youngest brother over two decades ago. She finds a hint as to where he may be through blurry media footage of an explosive arena battle and from a reluctant Kurta bodyguard.Chrollo doesn't have a family, only the Spiders.(CURRENTLY UNDER REVISION: Please read Author's Note)
Comments: 72
Kudos: 76





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I stumbled across [this theory](https://www.reddit.com/r/HunterXHunter/comments/7th00f/latest_chapter_spoilersa_your_spoiler_theory_are/) on Reddit and it sort of spiraled.  
> Enjoy! Please let me know what you think!

Oito hums the same song she used to sing to her little siblings to Woble as a lullaby, the words long forgotten but not the tune. It helped her fall asleep when she was younger, the soft song her mother sang before bed making her feel safe. She then sang it to her little sister, only two years younger than her, and her little brother, four years younger, to help them fall asleep when they were small. She hummed it when she was pregnant, her hands almost always on her growing stomach, a desire to protect the life growing within her, the life her and her husband had created.

Now, as she hums the song to Woble, who is drooling in her sleep on her kimono, she feels that desire to protect even stronger than before.

Woble’s siblings may try to kill her, and though she believes herself to be a weak woman, she will fight tooth and nail to protect what is hers.

Chrollo sometimes hums a song to himself, the words long forgotten but not the tune. He sometimes finds himself humming it when he’s reading, the words on the page blurring, eyes strained as the night drags on but insomnia prevents him from sleep. The song creeps into his mind on late nights where he does nothing but think, think of who he is. There’s something familiar in the tune, he must have known at some point in his life, but he can no longer remember what it is. Maybe it was a song he heard on the radio long ago, or from passing by street performers playing their music to earn some money. He has been to so many places that there was no possibility of pinpointing where he had picked it up, but it feels as if he has known it all his life.

There’s something in the tune that makes him feel safe, and sometimes, just sometimes, he hums himself to sleep to it.

Oito stares at herself in the mirror, bags under her eyes from lack of sleep and hair a mess from the little sleep she actually got. Her eyes are dark like her father’s, her hair as jet black and fine as her mother’s. She kept tossing and turning, the Seed Urn ceremony today. Fear has nestled its way into her mind, into her gut, and she feels like crying when she thinks of Woble. She’s so scared something will happen to her precious daughter, anxiety keeping her from peace.

Her servants are behind her, bustling about as they begin to prepare her robes for the ceremony, chatting amongst themselves about what jewelry will compliment the fabric, how her makeup will be done.

Oito regrets leaving Meteor City, the foolish desire for wealth not worth the risk of her and her daughter losing their lives. Woble is more precious than any material item in the world, more precious than the earth itself in her eyes. She knows her husband doesn’t see it that way, he has thirteen other children.

Chrollo looks at himself in the mirror of his room at Heaven’s Arena, bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, hair a mess from the hour of sleep he actually got. His eyes look darker than usual from staying up late reading, jet black hair sticking up every which way from tossing and turning.

He woke up to an abundance of texts (over one hundred) from Hisoka, demanding they schedule a date.

He’s so tired of being chased.

He taps out a quick response, if only to stop the onslaught of emojis and pictures and threats.

August 6th, timed specifically to get rid of him before the Troupe boards for the Dark Continent on August 7th.

Oito holds Woble tighter, crying into her daughter’s small shoulder. The few pictures she keeps from her childhood are on the bed before her, protected in ornate frames her husband had commissioned for her as a birthday gift. She squeezes Woble, remembering the last time she held a child so small. The last child she held before her own was her little brother.

She remembers holding him close, carrying him as she followed after her mother, assisting in chores around their meager home. She remembers softly carding through his hair, so much like hers, and kissing his little forehead. Her mother used to tout her as a good sister before ignoring her, her father and eldest brother teasing her and calling her a miniature mother. Her baby brother was the one member of the family that didn’t tease her, boss her around, or hit her, and she loved him for that.

Her brother had looked up at her with wide charcoal eyes, eyes always searching for something. She had taught him how to talk, helped pick him up when he was learning to walk. She taught him to read early by reading what little books they had to him. Oito had stepped into the role of a parent at such a young age because no one else wanted to take care of her baby brother. There had been five of them, her parents more focused on trying to keep all of them fed rather than actually parenting.

He had been three years old when he “died,” as her parents had lied to them. They had taken him out, leaving her and her other siblings behind, and tried selling him for more money in a different city. When that failed, they had simply abandoned him far enough way on the other side of Meteor City that there would be no possibility for him to find his way back. He had been a mistake, her father told her later as he was at the end of his life, and seven mouths to feed were too many. He was the youngest and couldn’t help, and it was easier to leave him than have the whole family starve.

Oito was furious once her parents had revealed the truth to her, only confiding after eighteen years of lying. He would have been about twenty then. Oito, twenty five and being courted by the King, had sobbed, sobbed worse than she had when her parents had come home with the news of her baby brother’s “death”. The fact that she would never see him again broke her heart, it still did. She had no idea if he even was still alive, had no idea where he would even be.

He would be about twenty eight, now. Oito herself was turning thirty two soon.

She holds Woble closer, crying as she remembers the way her eldest brother used to make demands of her, hit and kick her, shoving her into walls, hurting her for nothing more than the joy of being the bully. Her eldest sister would pull her hair, the youngest sister spiteful and envious of the attention she had attracted from her beauty. Once her husband began courting her after seeing her in Yorknew on an aspiring modeling job, her siblings had expressed their jealousy even more.

The wedding gift she had been given was her husband putting her siblings to death for the pain they had caused her. Oito never wanted that, but she couldn't tell her husband he was wrong. He was the king and his word was law, so Oito hid her tears over the executions of her siblings. 

She wishes Woble could have siblings that cared for and loved her the way she had loved and cared for her baby brother, but she knows that it’s wishful thinking. Out of her siblings, Tserriednich seems the most horrific, and Oito swears she will keep him as far away from her as possible.

Chrollo holds Shalnark’s cold corpse close, sobbing into his shoulder. He’s so mad, so very, very, mad. Anger boils in his veins, pain stabs his heart as he sees his two Spiders dead, their deaths his fault.

He never should have taken their abilities for the fight. He never should have let them be anywhere near the fight, maybe not even in the same country. He regrets ever letting them help.

Kortopi is nothing but a severed head, hair obscuring the fearful wide-eyed stare frozen forever on his round little face. Shalnark’s blood is seeping into Chrollo’s sweater, his head lolling to the side from being jostled as Chrollo’s sobs wrack his own body.

He’s so tired of losing Spiders. He’s so tired of losing parts of himself, people he cherishes. It hurt with Uvogin. It hurt even more with Pakunoda, his first friend, knowing she died so that he could be reunited with his Spiders.

He loves them, but he wishes Pakunoda never said a word. Had she not shared her memories and broke her own judgement chain, Chrollo never would have come back, and then she, Shalnark and Kortopi would still be alive.

The ties he had to them have been severed, severed by the joker card buried in the dirt by his side, the calling card of their executioner.

He’ll report their deaths to the rest of the Troupe when he sees them. They meet tomorrow to board the ship.

The riches of the Kakin empire are now secondary.

Finding and killing Hisoka, once again, is now Chrollo’s priority.

Oito sees the destruction of one of the floormaster battles at Heaven’s Arena through a livestream only those of Kakin royalty get to view.

The young man battling the man known as the “Grim Reaper” of Heaven’s Arena looks an awful lot like her.

As she pretends to pay attention to the chaos that ensues, feeling sadness at the loss of life as her husband and a few of her stepchildren watch and cheer eagerly at the anticipated match, she can’t tear her eyes away from the man who the announcer had introduced as Chrollo Lucilfer.

Her brother was named Chrollo, yet he had no last name. Oito, before being married, didn't have one, either. It simply wasn't important to have one growing up as she did.

The footage cuts out at a large explosion that rattles the whole arena, and Oito wants to cry out at the blank screen. 

She wants to see that man's face once more.


	2. Worldly Ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chrollo boards the Black Whale, Oito finds something interesting and has something to ask Kurapika.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dialogue for the scene where Chrollo discusses ties (which I used as influence for the title of this) is taken verbatim from the translation of the manga I have.  
> Also, for some reason I thought that Woble was 15 months old in canon, but I looked it up and she doesn't have an official age, so I'm putting her around the 10/11 month mark.

_New Message: Phinks._

Chrollo stared at the glow from the screen of his phone, hand gripping his ticket to board the ship tight. It seemed like the weather was reflecting his mood, the salty sea wind blowing tumultuously, the sky cloudy and grey, as if anticipating torrential rain despite the early hour of the morning. The dock was already flooded with people trying to board, the cacophony of their voices grating on his ears.

_We’re already boarded. I got Kalluto and Fei with me. Where do you wanna meet up?_

Swiping up on the notification, Chrollo looked ahead at the line of people before him as he waited to board. The keyboard was open, waiting for him to type his response out.

He suddenly realized he didn’t have anything to say, knowing full well the Troupe would migrate towards each other regardless of communication, and he would find them eventually.

Another message popped up to the thread before he could respond.

_New guy is here too. Idk where Machi, Shal or Kortopi are, but big guy’s looking for a table already. Everyone else is here now._

Chrollo began typing his response as the line moved, gaze wandering as he spotted a blip of pink amongst the sea of people. It was a windbreaker, fluttering back in the wind as the teen wearing it rushed by.

Something about the color, the shade just off from the color he would be seeking for, still enraged him. Just thinking about anything that he could associate with Hisoka was enough to make him want to fly into a fit of rage and destruction. The fact that he had gone back to his room at Heaven’s Arena to collect his things to find the room upturned was enough to tell him that Hisoka had searched for where he would head off to next, thus anticipating the Troupe boarding the ship. He had been so furious he had shattered every mirror and window within his room before storming out with his luggage. What infuriated him even more was that there had been several items stolen from his room, items that the magician knew were special to him.

_I’ll see you shortly._

Chrollo locked his phone, sliding it into the pocket of his jacket. He felt it buzz in his pocket, opting to ignore it as he got closer towards the ticket collectors lined up by the gangway.

Hisoka would be on board. He was sure of it.

Once he found him, he’d make sure he never saw the light of day again.

He had created the Phantom Troupe with the founding members, and even though he personally did not want to be the leader, he was chosen, and therefore, it was his.

No one fucked with what was his.

Kurapika was a blessing in light of the chaos of the Succession contest. Oito’s gamble with setting up the bodyguard request working surprised her, and Kurapika actually opting to stay and protect her and Woble surprised her further.

She had been expecting a stereotypical bodyguard: tall, a wall of muscle, rough. She had not been expecting this boy, just growing into adulthood, full of rage and sadness that seemed to radiate off him in waves. Kurapika was perfectly suited to protect Woble, and she felt at ease knowing she had made the right choice.

The aspect of Kurapika that Oito liked the most was that he respected her and viewed her as more than just a client. Kurapika listened and took her concerns into consideration as he planned and didn’t cast her worries aside. Since her marriage, Oito had always felt alone, the upper wives casting wary glances her way, keeping her out of the loop of gossip unless it was absolutely necessary for her to know, even her stepchildren were difficult to get along with, choosing to cling to their mothers or their fellow full-blooded siblings.

Now, Oito realized, she had someone from outside the royal family who she could trust.

She watched him with careful eyes, observing the way his face softened when he held Woble for the first time. It was then that she knew there was hope that she and Woble could escape with their lives from this terrible contest.

_Tier Five, Hall 37564._

Chrollo thought he could keep himself composed as he tried to make his way to where the Troupe was waiting for him. Tier Five was nothing but a conglomerate of different people, packed in too tight. It felt so crowded he could barely think, mind in too many places to focus on preparing to give orders.

He still closed his eyes and could see Shalnark’s pale face, eyes rolled back, the way the blood dripping from his face had nearly been black with how dark it was. He couldn’t get the sight of Kortopi’s paralyzing gaze out of his head.

“Damnit…Where the hell do these things keep crawling in from?!” a man said, stomping down on a cockroach.

Chrollo didn’t notice him until he almost bumped shoulders with him, the man startling back.

“What’s wrong? You look awful!” he exclaimed.

“Do I…?”

Chrollo hadn’t bothered looking at himself in the mirror, not since the morning of the fight. The man took in the sight of the leader of the Troupe, the way his shoulders hung low, anger and an overwhelming feeling of hurt and betrayal clinging to him like a miasma. He looked as if he hadn’t slept well in days, dark circles heavy under empty looking eyes.

“You look ready to kill someone,” the man said, clapping Chrollo on the back. “You’ve probably gone through a lot too, leading up to you getting on this boat. Now that you’re here, you should just forget alllll about your worldly ties!”

“It’s hard, isn’t it?”

The Troupe had been the one thing that he considered a worldly tie. There was simply no way he could forget them, the purpose they stood for.

“Ties…are not forgotten…” Chrollo said. “They’re severed,”

He would kill anyone who got in between him getting revenge, even the Princes of Kakin if he had to.

“Your Highness,” Bill announced, peeking into her room. “The pictures from Heaven’s Arena are here,”

When she had received a message from a journalist who had been reporting from the inside of the floormaster deathmatch she had seen a few days ago. The man had a strange name, since Oito had never heard of a so-called famed reporter named J Abaddon before, however, he had revealed that he had taken pictures of the event and was willing to part with them for a price. He even stated he had pictures of both floormasters prior to the match, and would throw them in as extras.

Oito hated sneaking about, but thankfully, she had Bill speak to the journalist for her, the payment mere pocket change to a queen.

“Send Kurapika in a few moments, please. I’d like to look at these myself,”

“Yes, your Highness,”

With trembling hands, she carefully pried open the sealed envelope, pulling the thin stack of pictures from it. She carded through them, unable to tear her eyes away from the man she had seen.

Some of the pictures of the match were blurry due to the commotion of the arena. The pictures taken before the match showed a man standing confident, a soft smile on his face. One picture was taken mid-sentence, yet Oito could tell by looking at him that he seemed soft-spoken. As she flipped through the fight, only five photos of them, she had a hard time telling if this man could truly be who she was looking for.

Buried beneath the stack of pictures of Heaven’s Arena held three separate pictures that were older than the match.

One picture had to be at least ten years old. She could tell it was the same man she had seen, just younger, face slightly rounder, eyes less dark and tired. He stood next to a blonde woman who was taller than him, the two smiling outside of what looked like a museum. He couldn’t have been older than twenty, a book tucked into the crook of his arm, hands in his pockets as the woman had her arm looped around his waist. Turning the picture, in neat script, read _‘Swardani Museum, 3 rd’_.

Another picture, the one right behind it, was more recent. The setting must have been a bar of some sorts, the man seated in between a ginormous man and another woman with bright pink hair, the three of them laughing. The script on the back let Oito know that it had been another celebration, this time marked _‘Padokea, 7 th’_.

The last picture was dated late August one year prior. Oito nearly dropped the photo, the other floormaster from the match in the picture as well, seated right beside the man. The blonde woman was there as well, and she seemed mid-conversation with the man Oito was looking for. The picture must have been taken at an odd time, since there was no caption besides _‘Yorknew, 8/31’_.

There was a knock on her door, Oito nearly jumping as she grabbed the pictures and held them close.

“Your majesty, you called for me?” Kurapika said through the door, Oito’s shoulders relaxing.

“Come in,” she called, turning to her guard.

Kurapika stepped into the room, shutting the door quietly behind him as he noticed Woble fast asleep in the middle of Oito’s bed.

“I have a tremendous favor to ask of you, Kurapika. I would appreciate your assistance, but this is secondary to you protecting Woble,”

“Understood,”

“Come here, please. Sit down and make yourself comfortable,”

Kurapika looked at the tea set on the table, two cups of hot tea steaming. He sat down across from Oito, watching the nervous way she clutched several photos to her chest, the backs of the photos to him to hide the images printed on the front.

“I’m the middle child of my family,” Oito began. “I had two brothers and two sisters. My siblings are deceased, now, as are my parents,”

“My condolences,”

“Thank you. However… something has always bothered me about my youngest brother,”

Oito set down a few pictures of what Kurapika assumed to be her and her family, a young girl with a big smile in the middle of a big family, holding a baby in her arms. Oito must have been about five in the picture, or maybe a tad younger. Several other pictures showed siblings looking much like her, an elder brother and sister, Oito next to her little sister.

“Did something happen to him?”

“My parents told us when we were little that he died,” Oito continued. “My parents had this elaborate story about how he was kidnapped by thieves for ransom, and when they couldn’t pay it since we were poor, they killed him. They told me, right before I was engaged to my husband, that they lied,”

Oito set down the other pictures and Kurapika’s blood turned ice cold in his veins.

“This man…” Oito’s voice wavered as a hand lingered over the blurry snapshot taken moments before the massive explosion. “I feel as if this man is my long-lost little brother. I want you to help me find him,”

Kurapika felt the anger and rage inside him burn hot like a roaring fire, hands clenched so tightly that his nails were digging into the soft skin of his palms. His stomach churned from just the sight of Chrollo, encaptured in motion on the photos spread across Oito’s table. All he could think of was being crammed in the back of the getaway car, the way his fist had collided with Chrollo’s jaw, the smug look of victory etched on his face despite the defeat he gained.

He saw the picture of a younger Chrollo next to a younger Pakunoda, and he felt a pang of sympathy for Pakunoda once he saw how genuinely happy she looked. He knew, upon inserting the judgement chain, that she would break hers to save Chrollo. Had Kurapika been in her position, and Gon, Killua or Leorio in Chrollo’s, he would do the same. The picture was taken, if Kurapika remembered the information he had gathered, after their third successful heist, where they had stolen several rare artifacts, and knowing that they had documented their crimes made his stomach turn.

Kurapika hadn’t even known that the leader of the Phantom Troupe had been stupid and suicidal enough to actually fight Hisoka, and he was even more shocked to hear that Hisoka had been reported as one of the many casualties of the fight. A part of Kurapika was glad that the jester would never be a problem in his (and Gon’s) life anymore, another part angry at the loss of innocent lives, killed in some sick display of strength and power.

“Please,” Oito’s voice was just above a whisper, pulling Kurapika from his thoughts. “He might be the only family I have left,”

Chrollo had done terrible things his whole life, as far as Kurapika knew. He wanted to squeeze his eyes shut, but he feared the images of his dead brethren might appear before him, the way they did when he slept. Upon seeing one of the pictures, the familiar face of the Spider he killed in Yorknew, he remembered Uvogin’s words that sometimes still rang in his head. The recognition the moment Kurapika removed his contacts and showed his eyes, burning scarlet in rage, had caused an epiphany in the Spider.

_“The Boss really liked those eyes,”_

It disgusted him, the trivial desire for the Scarlet Eyes. He still remembered the way Hisoka had simply told him that all the sets had been sold less than six months after the massacre, brushing off Chrollo’s boredom with them as if he were passively talking about the weather.

Kurapika opened his mouth to protest, to reveal the truth of Chrollo’s actions, when a cry cut him off. Woble must have just woken up, sniffling and crying for her mother.

“Mama,” Woble blubbered, repeating her favorite word of the few she knew.

“Oh, dear,” Oito rushed to her bed, Woble’s arms stretching for her mother’s hold. The worry and sadness seemed to wash off Oito’s face as she hoisted Woble up and onto her hip, her daughter clinging to the silk of her kimono, pressing her face against her mother’s chest.

It reminded Kurapika of his childhood, scraping his knees exploring with Pairo. He used to always come home, wobbly lipped and teary eyed, as his mother cleaned his cuts and pressed kisses to the bandages, squeezing him tight to her chest and peppering his face with kisses.

He missed her so much. He missed her warm embrace more than anything. He missed the way how, when he was young, being in his mother’s arms meant that he was safe from the world, that nothing bad could happen because she was there to protect him.

Kurapika came out of his reminiscing to the room being filled with Woble’s cries and soft humming coming from Oito, gently bouncing her baby in her arms to soothe her. Woble quieted at the tune, rubbing her teary eyes with a chubby fist. He could see similar traits of his mother by watching Oito’s interactions with her own daughter, the risks she was willing to take to ensure her safety during this chaotic time. Kurapika missed the days his mother would hold him on her hip, rubbing his back and singing to him in the language he hadn’t used in a year, the accent he forced himself to grow out of to sound professional for work.

He hadn’t been to Lusko since leaving. He wouldn’t go back until he had all the eyes to give the Kurta a proper burial in their home.

After that, he wasn’t certain where home would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a play on the journalist's name, since that will become important later.  
> Hope you enjoyed this! Please let me know what you think, I love getting feedback!  
> Thank you once again for reading!


	3. In Need of a Cake for a Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Troupe meets back up and Chrollo changes their goal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a bit of a slog to write, since I really just want to write later scenes of this fic that I have planned, but it needed to be written for the plot.
> 
> Enjoy nonetheless!

Machi was easy to spot, even within the bustling crowd of the marketplace. Their eyes met, feet moving on their own until they were face to face.

“I’m going to kill Hisoka,” Machi said, fists clenched at her side, jaw set. Chrollo knew that look, had known Machi about half his life. That look meant that she would hold true to her word, no matter the cost.

“Nope,” he shook his head, his own fists clenched in the pockets of his coat. “No. First come, first served,”

“Then let’s decide by coin, like usual-”

“We can’t. Not this time,”

“Why?!”

“Coin tosses are for disputes between two individuals. Everyone wants to kill him this time. Of course, that includes me!”

Machi could feel the brief slip of bloodlust, only lasting for a millisecond, but it was enough to send a chill down her spine. Chrollo rarely got angry, usually keeping it under control and hidden behind a calm façade. It was something he had learned through trial and error, the performance he held as the selected leader of the Phantom Troupe. Now, she could feel that anger emanating off of him in waves, the way his aura seemed to be full of murderous rage and thick with revulsion.

For the first time since the floormaster battle, there was a flash of a wild look in his eyes.

Machi was absolutely sure she didn’t want to see any more of it.

“Just find him. He’s on this ship,” he ordered, stalking off towards where the Troupe had agreed to meet up.

Finding it easier to follow than to argue, Machi followed close behind.

Chrollo didn’t bother with niceties as he took his spot at the head of the table Franklin had picked in the cafeteria.

“It’s good to see you, Chrollo-” Nobunaga began.

“Shalnark and Kortopi are dead,” Chrollo interrupted, and the looks on his Spiders faces told him that they suspected as much. “Hisoka killed them after our match,”

His gaze followed along the saddened faces to the one neutral expression, seated with his hands in his lap silently.

“We don’t know which Tier Hisoka is in. We’ve been going over Tier Five with a fine tooth comb for someone taller than six-two, but no hits yet."

He looked over to their newest member, who seemed to have not been listening.

“Illumi, would you care to introduce yourself and tell us where Hisoka might be?”

“We’re in the middle of a game of tag. He hasn’t told me anything,” Illumi said. “Hi, I’m Illumi. I’m the eldest Zoldyck son, and Killua and Kalluto are my brothers. I joined the Spiders on Hisoka’s request. We had a give-and-take relationship, but we knew one of us would kill the other in the end. We’re engaged in a contract, and for our prenup, if he dies I still get paid. We’re both very serious about this, and he hasn’t disclosed his location, so I don’t know where he is,”

Chrollo felt a presence behind him, his back stiffening.

“This table’s reserved,” the man said, Chrollo turning to see him. “Go somewhere else,”

“We were here first. _You_ go somewhere else,” he said.

By glancing at the man, the rose tattoo he sported on the side of his face, he could tell he was a member of the Cha-R.

“You’re the Phantom Troupe, right?” he continued. “Caused quite a bit of trouble out in Yorknew. We took advantage of that mess and got exclusive rights to the new continent. We owe you. We don’t want to fight, so just step aside and we’ll help you out,”

Chrollo stood, hands in his pockets.

“We’re looking for someone named Hisoka…he’s over six-two, and gives off a sinister vibe,” he said. “He’s our top priority,”

“We can check the royal army’s passenger list,” the leader said. “You can check this Tier, but you’ll need tickets to gain access to Tiers Three and Four. If you join us, you get a free pass,”

“Very kind of you, but no thanks. We haven’t heard your terms,”

“I told you. Stepping aside is enough. Take your dispute somewhere else,”

“We were on our way, actually,” Chrollo stopped before him. “Tell me, how do you get into Tier One?”

“Don’t push your luck,” the leader barked. “Get out of here before I change my mind!”

Chrollo began to walk away, the rest of the Troupe following.

After a minute or so of walking, Phinks got closer to Chrollo.

“He gave himself away,” he said, breaking the silence.

“Hm...?”

“He flared up when you mentioned the top tier,” Phinks explained. “I smell a big secret, which means treasure,”

“That’s later,” Chrollo said, stopping to turn to the rest of the Spiders. “Hisoka comes first. We’ve shown our cards, now do as you please,”

He reached up to tug at the bandana covering his tattoo, the thin fabric falling away and into his hand.

“We want to have a party, but there’s no cake. We need a special order to place in the center of the table. When we get it, we’ll meet back together and dine at that table,”

He looked out at his Spiders, awaiting his final order. They needed to avenge their fellow deceased legs no matter the cost.

He clenched his fist at his side. Hisoka was linked to all the recent deaths of their Troupe members, telling the chain user of Uvogin’s strength, allowing for the chain user to capture him and set the conditions on Pakunoda due to changing his fortune to manipulate them into staying. Hisoka had torn Kortopi’s head from his shoulders, had taken the time to pose Shalnark’s corpse knowing that Chrollo would be meeting up with them.

Everything Chrollo had cared for Hisoka was planning on destroying, razing it to the ground.

He couldn’t let that happen.

He couldn’t lose any more Spiders.

“Bring me Hisoka’s head!”

He watched the Troupe begin to split off into groups, taking Shizuku and Bonolenov with him.

A flash of green and ebony caught his eye, reminding him of something.

“Illumi,” Chrollo called, walking to his newest Spider. “I have a question,”

He caught up to the eldest Zoldyck, who was walking slowly to match Kalluto’s smaller stride.

“What, exactly, is your relationship to Hisoka?”

“Hm?” Illumi turned, graceful like a dancer, head cocked to the side at Chrollo’s question.

“Why would he have you join us if he wants us dead?”

Holding eye contact with the eldest Zoldyck was a bit like staring into the abyss, the odd feeling that it was staring back enough to send a slight shiver down one’s spine.

“We knew we were going to have a fight to the death someday,” Illumi shrugged. “It’s easier this way, and as long as I get paid, I don’t see any problem working with you while I’m engaged with him,”

“The terms of this ‘engagement’…”

“Oh! We’re actually engaged,” Illumi revealed his left hand, the glint of gold catching in the light. “In the event we don’t kill each other, which I find highly unlikely, he promised me a big wedding back home,”

Chrollo, honestly, had no idea how to process that last bit of information. Hisoka didn’t seem the type to settle down into the confines of marriage, not one to be held down. He was his own master, yet here he was, putting his life in Illumi’s hands, and Illumi putting his life in Hisoka’s. Chrollo also didn’t like the possibility that they wouldn’t kill each other, and Illumi being on Hisoka’s side during a fight would be detrimental to the Spiders.

Chrollo could admit defeat, as much as he didn’t want to, and if Hisoka and Illumi fought him together, he knew his probability of winning would be low. Countering both elder Zoldycks had been hard enough, but Illumi was a prodigy and incredibly dangerous with his needles. Combined with Hisoka’s bungee gum, which was nearly perfect, he would definitely have a challenge on his hands, and would be fighting an uphill battle if he were fighting alone.

“Are we done?” Illumi pulled him from his thoughts, running through possible scenarios in which he could win should it come to that. “I would like to catch up with Kalluto, now,”

“You have my number. Let me know if you hear anything pertaining to Hisoka’s whereabouts,” Chrollo said. “My order still stands, and as a leg of the Spider, you do have to follow. If you find him, only I am allowed to kill him, regardless of your contract with him. Understood?”

“Crystal clear,” Illumi turned, giving a wave. “Bye,”

As Chrollo watched him walk away, he couldn’t resist but feel as if he had an Ephialtes amongst their ranks.

The other Troupe members began to head off into their own directions. Thinking on the map of the ship, he figured it might be best to try to get access into the next Tier, and see if he could work his way up without too much interference from the mafia.

They owed him, they had said, and he planned on cashing in on that debt.

He was going to the top Tier and bring the whole Kakin royalty to their knees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since Chrollo has admitted that he doesn't view Judas as a traitor, I included a reference of an infamous traitor from my field of knowledge (ancient history) of Ephialtes of Trachis. Ephialtes betrayed the allied Greek forces in the Persian wars and he was the one who showed the Persians the thin trail that allowed the Persians to fight the Spartans at Thermopylae (the fight in the movie 300). Ephialtes betrayed the Greeks because the Persians offered him riches, which is more fitting for Illumi since Illumi's motive to kill Hisoka is driven by money. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! The upcoming chapters will include more of Oito, Kurapika and Chrollo!  
> Please let me know what you think! Feedback is always appreciated!


	4. A Judas Amongst Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oito witnesses the death of a stepchild and meets up with a possible source of knowledge of where her youngest brother may be. Chrollo feels as if he's already signed the death warrant to a Spider.

It was just supposed to be a brief moment to scope out the other princes, to see who might become a threat to Prince Woble.

It was never supposed to be this, Oito realized, eyes wide in horror as she watched the bodyguard of Prince Momoze straddle her smaller form, thick hands crushing the column of her neck with ease. The sleeping prince hardly struggled, lack of oxygen preventing the young girl from screaming for help, the mass of the guard obscuring Oito’s view.

Kurapika and Babimyna startled at the bloodcurdling scream that come out of Oito’s mouth, her movements frantic as she rushed towards her door.

“No! Stop it! Stop him!” she screamed, running into Kurapika.

“Please calm down, Queen Oito!” he shouted, grabbing her by the shoulders as she tried to push forward.

“Prince Momoze is going to be killed! You have to stop him, quick!”

“You’re in your bedroom right now. You’re exhausted and must have been having a nightmare,” Kurapika said. “Please, lay back down-”

Oito felt a pop in her ear as Stealth Dolphin deactivated, throwing her hand up to dislodge Kurapika’s grip on her shoulder as she yanked the other wrist from his hand.

“This is no time for petty strategies!” she shouted, storming towards the door. “If you won’t help, then I’ll go myself!”

“Queen Oito, please,” Kurapika tried grabbing her arm once again. “We’ll check on him immediately. Bill! Get in touch with Room 1012 and confirm the status of Prince Momoze!”

Oito felt her whole being shake with worry and rage at the passivity of her guards, trying to resist the urge to rush out of the room and go check on Momoze herself.

“Please, go sit down, Queen Oito,” Kurapika said gently, helping guide her back to her bed.

She sat on the edge of the bed, hiding her face in her hands. She felt the hot sting of tears threaten to spill over, her heart heavy with worry.

After the confirmation of death, Oito shook with grief.

“We could have stopped it! We might have been able to save her!”

“Your majesty…”

Oito looked up to Babimyna.

“Shouting out back then could only have been detrimental to you,” he said. “…Even still, why did you do it?”

“…Detrimental…you say?” Oito huffed a false laugh. “To all of you completely wrapped up in this survival game…I must seem ridiculous for not standing by idly while someone else’s daughter gets killed,”

Tears began to drip down her face, sliding down the slope of her nose as she cried.

“I understand it all too well. I’ve nothing to say to you,” 

Kurapika clenched his jaw. The way she said that last phrase-

_“I feel the same. I can relate. I’ve got nothing to say to you,” Chrollo smirked, triumphant despite being trapped in Chain Jail, a smug look on his face as he knew he would be victorious by the end of that dreadful night in Yorknew._

Oito sniffled, drawing Kurapika back from the brief flash of the past.

He left to go talk with Bill, to keep his mind off the Phantom Troupe and on the current task at hand.

Oito reactivated Stealth Dolphin, staring blankly at the notepad as she continued to write.

“You’re majesty! You needn’t force yourself to-”

“I’m doing this for Woble,” she stated, determined to do nothing but protect her daughter. “It’s not like I’m worried about you,”

The pen suddenly stopped, her hand locking up. She heard Bill shout for Kurapika, the sound muddled as if she were underwater, as black spots danced across her vision and she passed out.

Oito felt more exhausted than she had felt in years. Woble’s birth had been less exhausting than passing out after encountering those…things. Whatever she had seen from Tserriednich was worse than any nightmare she had ever seen. She felt as if her whole body had been drained of energy, limbs heavy.

Her heart ached, turning her head to the side to gaze at her sleeping daughter. Bill must have placed Woble onto the bed beside her after she had fallen asleep once Kurapika left to go teach nen to the other guards.

Closing her eyes, all Oito could see was Momoze’s guard on top of her, strangling her in her sleep. She had never felt so angry, the dismissal she received from Kurapika and Bill enough to bring her to tears. A mother lost one of her children, and though Sevanti had been a bit cruel once Oito had been newly married, they did get along being the two lowest wives to Natsubi. How terrible, to lose a child in such a manner.

All she could think about was her family, now lost to death, and the sliver of hope she held for the possibility of the one tie she might be able to salvage.

She curled her body around Woble as if to shield her away from all the dangers that this terrible ship held, pressing a kiss to the soft dark locks atop her head. Her nen training with Bill was going so slow, and she knew she was a slow learner, but she wished she could learn quickly for the sake of her daughter.

“Your majesty?” Shimano whispered, knocking lightly. “There’s a visitor for you. It’s the journalist Bill spoke with,”

“Let him in,” Oito sighed, sitting up. “I’ll be out shortly. Let me get presentable,”

Oito honestly had no idea of what to expect this “J. Abaddon” person to look like, and she was genuinely surprised at the tall man. He was dressed similarly to how the guards were dressed, his wavy auburn hair pulled back into a ponytail. Something about him seemed familiar, something Oito just couldn’t place her finger on, but when he turned to her, he gave her a soft smile. Though he appeared friendly, Oito felt as if there was something sinister under the surface, something dangerous, like a wild animal ready to pounce.

“Your majesty, it’s truly an honor to meet you,” he said, his saccharine tone putting her at ease.

“The pleasure is mine,” she said, sitting down as Shimano brought over tea. “Please, sit down. I insist,”

“Thank you,” her visitor sat, crossing his legs and staring at her with curious amber eyes. “I’m sure you have questions, and I would love to answer them for you,”

Oito took the teacup in her hands, feeling the warmth emanating from the porcelain in her hands. She watched as the man mirrored her movement, taking a small sip of the tea.

“I have a few,” she admitted, leaning over to grab the folder on the table.

Carefully, she laid out the pictures from the Heaven’s Arena battle. The journalist’s lip quirked down into a brief scowl as his gaze went to the images, the subjects too blurry to see clearly except for the victor of the match.

“First, I would like to hear your thoughts on this match,” she said. “It must have been so chaotic in that arena, yet you still managed to take pictures,”

“Ah, yes. It was quite difficult with everyone running and screaming, as well as the combatants fighting in the stands,” he said, setting his teacup down. “I feel like the match was not properly fought,”

“Oh?”

“It isn’t all that fair when one fighter has one ability, yet the other has seven, most of which were stolen,” he commented.

“Can you tell me more about this man?” Oito pointed at the picture of Chrollo standing confidently moments before the match began.

“His name is Chrollo Lucilfer,” Abaddon began. “It was his first match as a floormaster. He’d only been at Heaven’s Arena for about two months before he garnered enough wins to challenge his predecessor, who he killed in that match,”

Oito frowned, not enjoying the violent term.

“Do you know anything about him personally? Where he’s from, where he is?” she asked, hoping to get some answers.

“I know he’s originally from Meteor City, and that he’s fond of old books,” Abaddon said, reaching into the inner pocket of his suit jacket. “And to where he is…”

He set down several pictures onto the table, Oito’s breath catching in her chest.

“That’s-”

“Tier Five, Hall 1109,” he finished for her.

Oito picked up one of the pictures, taken with the lenses zoomed in. Chrollo’s face looked drained from any emotion other than anger, eyes dark and moody, dark circles under his eyes. His lips were set in a scowl, and he appeared to be making his way through the crowd with a shorter woman wearing glasses and a bandaged man in tow. The woman was holding onto the shoulder of his jacket, her gaze off to the right as the bandaged man focused on a piece of paper he held, presumably a map.

“He’s on this ship?” she whispered, hearing a confirmation hum from her visitor. “How did you take these?”

“I know someone who can blend into crowds wonderfully,” Abaddon said. “The last update I heard, Chrollo was somewhere on Tier Four,”

“You’ve made me a very happy woman,” Oito admitted. “I’ll transfer the funds to your account immediately,”

“If I may, your highness,” he said, honeyed eyes staring intently at her. “What business do you have with that man?”

“You may think me foolish,”

“I could never, your majesty,”

“Well…” Oito pursed her lips. He had managed to get her information, as well as photographs and now, a possible location. “It’s just a possibility, but I may have ties with that man, Chrollo, and I would like to meet with him,”

“A fair warning, Queen Oito,” Abaddon said, standing up. “That man is quite dangerous. Do be careful,”

“I shall. Thank you so much for your time, Mister…?” Oito stood, giving him a brief bow as Shimano escorted him out.

“Judas. Judas Abaddon,” he responded.

“That’s quite the name. Thank you once more, Mr. Abaddon. It’s been a pleasure,”

“The pleasure is mine, your majesty,” he said, smiling as he waved goodbye.

Once the door shut behind him, Shimano looked at Oito.

“I get a strange vibe from him,” she admitted.

“I felt something, too,” Oito sighed. She was only just starting to attempt the basics of nen, yet this man…

The sinister aura emanating from him told her that he was a nen user, and a powerful one at that. While the information he gave her was beneficial, there was still something unsettling about his sweet demeanor.

Behind the doors of her chambers, she heard the faint babbles of her daughter, as if letting her know she was awake.

Upon opening the doors, Woble was pushing herself up on the bed, letting herself plop down into a fit of giggles.

Her daughter’s laughter was enough to put her heart at ease for the time being.

A day came and went without any news.

“What are your thoughts on our newest member?” Chrollo asked, cellphone balanced between his cheek and shoulder as he flipped through Bandit’s Secret, analyzing the skills he had collected and still had in his arsenal.

He had found an empty seating area on Tier Two, a supposed study area that was closed off from most of the passengers which granted him the privacy to call and check in on his Troupe without the risk of someone eavesdropping. Bonolenov had gone off disguised to peer around and Shizuku, if he remembered, had made a comment about being hungry before heading off.

 _“Illumi? There’s something off about him joining_ ,” Machi’s voice was a bit obscured by the call, the chatter of people in the same hall as her filling in the silence on her end.

“Elaborate,”

_“I’d rather tell you in person,”_

“That’s fine. We can meet up soon. Is there any reason why?”

_“I dunno, but I have-”_

“A hunch?”

_“…Yeah, something like that. But I wouldn’t take it too seriously,”_

“Your hunches are usually correct,” Chrollo crossed his legs in his seat. “I think you may be right, Machi,”

_“You don’t trust Illumi either?”_

“Not in the slightest. I’ll see you when we all meet back up in my cabin tomorrow,”

_“Bye, Boss. Stay safe,”_

“You know I will,”

Machi snorted on the other end.

 _“Says the one who got kidnapped,”_ he could tell she was smirking on the other end of the line. She was the only one who he allowed to tease him, Paku being the previous owner of that title. _“See ya later,”_

“Take care, Machi,”

The line went dead, unease burrowing its’ way into Chrollo’s stomach.

Chrollo felt a bit nervous letting Machi go off on her own, despite knowing she was perfectly capable of handling herself. He had to remind himself that Shalnark and Kortopi had been caught off guard and had been virtually nenless when Hisoka had attacked them, and that their deaths had been his fault.

Still, much like Machi’s own gut feelings, he had a feeling that sending her off on her own was almost like signing her death sentence.

He would feel much better once he had all his Spiders before him, alive and breathing.

“What’re you thinking about, Boss?” Shizuku asked, startling him from his musing.

“It’s nothing,”

She cocked her head to the side, his gaze going to the two boxes of food in her hands.

“You look like you’re sad,”

“I’m just thinking. Thank you for your concern, Shizuku,”

“You don’t always have to think to yourself, you know,” Shizuku said. “Sometimes, it’s better to think out loud and get feedback from others. If you need someone to listen, I’m here,”

He gave her a smile before mimicking a motion Franklin tended to do, by placing his hand on the top of her head. Her genuine concern made something warm in his chest bloom, a sense of sincere care.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you,”

“I found a café and got us something to eat,” she held up the boxes. “I forgot what I ordered, though,”

He couldn’t help the soft chuckle that escaped his lips as he took the box she offered him. One thing he liked the most about Shizuku was her empty head and optimistic attitude, a personality quite unlike the other members of the group. She sat down beside him, shoulder bumping up against his as she dug into her food. He felt his shoulders relax, knowing one of his Spiders was right in sight, safe and sound and noisily munching away at the sandwich she bought.

It might not hurt to take a small break from their search, he reasoned, a little reprieve from the sadness and anger that had been consuming him the past few days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The Hebrew term Abaddon, and its Greek equivalent Apollyon, appear in the Bible as both a place of destruction and an angel of the abyss. In the Hebrew Bible, abaddon is used with reference to a bottomless pit, often appearing alongside the place שְׁאוֹל, meaning the realm of the dead." - Wikipedia  
> I wanted to give the disguise a name that Chrollo will know once he hears of, but Oito will be oblivious to until she is told.  
> Next chapter will be their meeting! I'm so excited to post it, but it will take a bit, so please, let me know how you feel about this so I can wrap up the chapter the way you would like!
> 
> Once again, thank you sooooo much for reading! I appreciate it so much, and it makes me want to write more when I see kudos/bookmarks/comments!


	5. Break It Just Because I Can

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chrollo finds a calling card and sees red.  
> The Phantom Troupe meet to discuss their plan to search for Hisoka, and Oito asks Kurapika a favor.
> 
> Kurapika really hates Spiders, especially cocky ones who make their entrance on his Tier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is taken from the song, "Wrecking Ball" by Mother Mother because I was listening to it while writing and got inspired for a specific scene. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Oito was definitely happier after her meeting with the mysterious journalist, Kurapika noticed. In between training the guards the basics of nen and keeping up to date on the statuses of the Zodiacs, he could see her smiling more than since Prince Momoze’s death. It was nice to see her happy once again, but knowing that the cause of her joy was more information on the boss of the Phantom Troupe made his relief bittersweet.

They had just taken a break so the guards could get lunch, leaving the main quarters of Oito’s wing on the ship. She had just finished a round of her own nen training with Bill, seated in her chair. Woble was placed on her lap, chewing on a teething toy and cooing as Oito bounced her gently on her knees and sang softly in a dialect Kurapika couldn’t pinpoint. Kurapika found himself somewhat envious of Woble’s infantile ignorance, completely oblivious to the dangers surrounding her and of the dangerous people she was competing with in this terrible contest. 

“Kurapika, when you are free, I’d like to speak with you for a moment,” Oito said, drawing his attention from the happy baby. “It’s important,”

“Of course, your highness. If you’d like, I’m free now,”

“Very well, then. Follow me,”

Oito stood, handing Woble off to Shimano before waving Kurapika to follow her into her bedchambers, the doors closing shut behind them.

“Is there any way we can move the search for my brother as high priority?” Oito asked. “I just received news yesterday that the man I believe is my little brother is on this ship,”

Kurapika clenched his hand, the knuckles white as he unconsciously conjured his chains. Oito didn’t seem to react, waiting patiently for his answer.

Chrollo was aboard the ship, and Kurapika felt the rage in his chest burn with the intensity of a burning star. If Chrollo was aboard, that also meant that there was a high possibility that other members of the Phantom Troupe were with him.

That also meant that he would be practically untouchable.

“I can see what I can do, Your Majesty,” Kurapika said.

“You said you have a dowsing chain that can be used to locate people and objects, as well as tell if they are lying. Is that correct?”

“Yes, I do,”

Oito went to her desk, scanning the pile of papers until she pulled out a detailed map of the ship. Kurapika fought the urge to grimace, already knowing her next question.

“Can you find him? I know you’re busy teaching nen, but if you mark where they are, I’ll send Bill and Shimano to bring him here so you can get back to what you are doing,”

He felt his nails, clipped from nervousness, dig into the flesh of his palm.

No matter how angry he was, he couldn’t tell her ‘no’.

And so, with reluctancy, he responded, “yes, your Majesty.”

Chrollo opened his eyes, his body screaming to just stay in bed and sleep the day away. He tossed and turned all night, still not used to the small bed in his cabin, the way the ship rocked with each wave and the eerie silence of the dead of night. Every bump and groan of the ship had him question whether or not Hisoka was there to try to attack him, forcing him to manage a few moments of sleep here and there, not sleeping for more than forty minutes each time.

He just wanted to kill Hisoka, to ensure the safety of the Spiders, rob the Kakin blind, and then relax for a few days. Maybe they would drink until they pass out once Hisoka was truly six feet under, wake up and do it all over again, then hold proper funerals for those they lost back home.

_Home._

Meteor City, where he reigned as king, the one person the elders would bow for. It was rare when he actually went home, but when he did, things got done. Things got better.

Now, it seemed things might get even worse with each turn of the hour and it was his doing.

There was no use laying around in bed depressed. There was a magician to hunt.

But first, Chrollo realized, he should shower before the rest of the Troupe showed up. Running a hand through his hair, he realized it was quite greasy, and he had been so focused on searching the ship for Hisoka he completely forgot when the last time he showered was. It had to have been sometime after their fight, washing the soot and blood off of himself, but he couldn’t quite remember, blinded by rage and grief once he saw Shalnark and Kortopi’s corpses.

Forcing himself up and out of bed, he padded to the en suite bathroom and ran the hot water in the shower, stripping once it was a suitable temperature.

Pakunoda used to tease him that he took showers that were hotter than hell itself. He would quip back that he was practicing for when he eventually died and went there.

 _“Why, so you can steal the throne for yourself?”_ she would tease, and they would laugh.

He missed her. He missed all of them, his lost Spiders.

He let himself get lost in fond memories as he got into the shower and washed himself, massaging shampoo into his scalp the way she used to when they were small. His first solid memory was of Pakunoda, as she was his first dear friend. She had stopped him from getting beat by a baker for stealing bread when he was probably about five, the years blending together in a hazy blur he could never penetrate no matter how hard he tried to think back on his early childhood. She was a little older, a little taller, a bit stronger. She used to force him to sit down in some washbin to bathe no matter how much he hated it, scrubbing the dirt and grime from his face and from his hair. She had stopped doing it around the time he was seven when she trusted he could do it himself, but he still appreciated her care nonetheless.

He had no family to compare to, but Pakunoda was always like a protective older sister. She used to chastise him for getting into trouble when he got caught stealing, make sure he was fed, always took first watch so he could sleep.

Put simply, they were as thick as thieves growing up in the trash heaps of Meteor City.

As they gathered a bigger friend group, the first of the Spiders, she became that big sister figure for them, too, always reliable and trustworthy.

Wait.

Chrollo paused to wash the soap from his hair, staring at the pale tile of the shower stall as he took in the epiphany he had just had.

The Troupe _was_ a family to him, he realized.

“Huh,” he huffed, feeling himself begin to smile at the thought. He had been too stupid to see it, clearly.

They were more than just an extension of himself, pieces of himself. They were people he cared for, people he wanted to protect. Maybe that had been a subconscious reason, all those years ago, a little over a decade, when he had gathered his friends and established the idea of the Phantom Troupe, the philosophy behind the Spider.

He wondered if they viewed him in a similar way when they appointed him leader.

_“It has to be Chrollo,” Uvogin said. “I’m not smart enough to think of things like that, but if you need me to beat someone to a pulp, I’m your man,”_

_“We know you’re not smart enough, Uvo,” Nobunaga teased, dodging a playful swipe._

_“I vote Chrollo,” Feitan said, hand raised. “I don’t want be leader,”_

_“You do come up with the best plans,” Shalnark said. “You’re too smart for your own good, but you also are good at gathering us all together and solving arguments,”_

_“You are a good mediator,” Phinks said._

_“I think it should be Pakunoda,” Chrollo shook his head. “She’s-”_

_“Chrollo, you’re a born leader,” Pakunoda smiled, a hand on his shoulder. “I think you should be the leader. It’s your plan, your idea,”_

_“I agree with Paku,” Machi looked up at the two of them, still having not hit her growth spurt yet despite most of them being almost a foot taller than her._

_“It’s settled then!” Uvo shouted, pushing himself up from his seat. “Chrollo’s the boss!”_

_He scooped him up in his arms as if he weighed nothing, laughing as he spun him around and gave him a bone-crushing hug._

_Chrollo couldn’t stop laughing, he was so happy._

He wanted to be happy like he was that day, surrounded by his friends. He would be happy like that once they held proper burials for Shalnark and Kortopi back home, and once he had Hisoka’s head on a platter.

The water was running cold.

Chrollo turned the handle, shutting the water off. Running a hand through his hair to push it out of his eyes, he wrapped a towel around himself and headed out of the bathroom to get his clothes for the day.

He felt his heart drop once he entered the room.

There, atop the turtleneck sweater he had laid out on the bed beside his coat and pants, lay a two of hearts card from the deck Hisoka had used during their match.

He clenched his jaw so hard he nearly cracked a molar.

It took Kurapika only five minutes to locate all the Spiders on the ship using his dowsing chain, marking on the map for Bill and Shimano.

“I need to stay here to teach the others basic nen,” Kurapika said, circling a spot in between Tiers One and Two. “So you two are in charge of collecting the Spiders. If they need any proof, the queen’s written an invitation for you to show them. You don’t need all of them, just the leader. If he insists on bringing more, let him, it will avoid unnecessary conflict. You don’t want to provoke them, and they’ll definitely become suspicious once they find out one of the Kakin queens wants an audience with their leader alone, so I feel they’ll assist on accompanying him,”

“Of course,” Shimano said.

“I advise you both approach with ease. Whatever you do, do not engage in combat,”

“Will do,” Bill said.

“I’m serious, Bill,” Kurapika felt a dull throb behind his eyes, the same bit of pain he felt when he knew his eyes were about to turn scarlet. “If they attempt to attack you, retreat and I’ll go and I’ll force them to come up here, kicking and screaming if I have to,”

“You make it seem like they’ll kill me on sight,”

“They might,” Kurapika sighed, folding the map and setting it on top of the crème colored parchment with Oito’s official signature emblazoned on the envelope in crimson ink. “If that happens, alert me immediately,”

“Are you sure you can’t go?” Shimano asked nervously, looking between Kurapika and Bill. “I can stay behind and keep watch on your students,”

“They won’t listen to me if I go,” Kurapika figured, knowing that it might turn into a full scale fight if they saw him first without understanding why he would approach them. “I’ll stay back to guard the queen, and once you bring them here, I’ll set the rules to prevent any harm,”

Bill shared a look with Shimano, both knowing that Kurapika was fully capable of leading the situation in his favor, however…

Kurapika was looking worse for wear. Dark circles rested under eyes that should be full of life and vibrancy, lips always turned into a set scowl. He barely slept, getting only little naps here and there while Bill took his shift, and he ate small portions and countered eating food with drinking copious amounts of coffee. The way his hands shook from the caffeine intake was enough to indicate to Shimano that he was running on fumes at this point, and would either pass out again or just drop dead from exhaustion. It worried them greatly, since Kurapika was the key to Prince Woble surviving the Succession Contest.

“They might follow the incentive to be up here to scope out the treasures of the Kakin empire,” Kurapika said. “They are thieves, so they may see this to their advantage despite not knowing the specifics of what they’re getting into,”

Bill took the envelope and map, accepting his task.

The Troupe had established that, when meeting together for the duration of the rest of the trip, the private Tier Two cabin Chrollo had managed to steal a pass for would be the go-to spot for the sake of ease. There, behind the walls of the small room, they could plan without anyone eavesdropping.

Machi pushed through the door first, Chrollo pacing his room as he tied a wrap around his left hand tight. She could see blood beginning to blossom and seep into the light fabric, which she then recognized as the bandana he wrapped around his head to conceal his tattoo.

“Hey, Chrollo,”

“Hello,” his tone was sharp and curt.

“What happened to your hand?” Machi asked, eyes wandering to the door to the bathroom as she saw the shattered pieces of mirror scattered across the tile.

“Don’t worry about it,” he sighed. “Are the others coming?”

“They should be. I think Nobunaga, Phinks and Feitan got a little too chummy with their new friends and are sleeping off a hangover, so they’ll be late,”

“Thank you for updating me,”

Machi came over to him, forcing him to stop his back and forth pacing. Behind him, on the bed, she saw the playing card, her breath catching in her throat for a moment.

“He was here,” Chrollo mumbled to her. “He was here and I didn’t sense him and I didn’t kill him and-”

Machi gave him a look that silenced him, holding out her hand flat. He placed his injured hand atop hers, letting her unravel the blood soaked makeshift bandage to reveal the jagged gashes.

“You punched the mirror, didn’t you?”

“Perhaps,”

Machi scoffed, rolling her eyes as she plucked a needle from her pincushion. The air around them felt cold as she summoned her nen, quickly stitching the wound shut. Chrollo would never not be fascinated by seeing her ability no matter how often he got the chance to see it, entranced by her precision and knowledge of the human body in order to properly utilize her technique.

“Don’t be an idiot and stop destroying things because your mad,” she chided. “He’s just trying to get a rise out of you, and he’s probably hoping you’ll make a mistake so he can take advantage of that to attack you,”

“I know,”

“Have you eaten?”

“No,”

“Are you getting decent sleep?”

“Have I ever?”

Machi let go of his hand, the last of the stitches placed.

“You need to take care of yourself, or you’ll go mad chasing after him. I know you want to kill him, but you need to take care of yourself, too," she warned. “Let’s get breakfast before the others show up,”

He sighed, looking at the back of his hand, the invisible stitches holding the skin taut, nothing but thin seams of where the glass had sliced his flesh visible. She was right. How could he effectively lead if he wasn't taking care of himself? That would be counter-intuitive.

“I think you’re right,” he admitted.

“Of course I am,” she said. “I’m me,”

And he wouldn’t have her any other way.

Per Machi’s request, Chrollo did relent and eat breakfast with her despite not feeling hungry, downing a mug of black coffee and the small pastry she had picked out for him. His mind was in several different places, thinking of the next best approach in their plans. So far, he, Bonolenov and Shizuku had come up empty. Machi had revealed that she didn’t have any new information, either.

He stewed in his own thoughts as they walked back to his cabin, opening the door to reveal the rest of the Troupe sans the Zoldycks.

“About time!” Nobunaga complained. “We thought something happened to you two!”

“We were getting breakfast, since we were up early and not sleeping off a hangover,” Machi teased. Nobunaga huffed, arms folded as he refused to make eye contact with her.

Doing a quick headcount, Chrollo was relieved to see Phinks and Feitan seated on the floor, Franklin taking up most of his bed from where he sat. Shizuku was flipping through the bible he had left on his bedside table backwards, glasses sliding down her nose. Bonolenov was stretching his limbs, disguise already on to help him blend into crowds.

“So, what’s the plan, Boss?” Phinks asked, drawing his attention.

“We’re changing our plan slightly. We’ll divide into three groups,” Chrollo said, looking to Franklin for an answer. “Where are the Zoldycks?”

“Kalluto got seasick, so Illumi was bringing him to the med bay,” Franklin said.

“And no one thought to tell me and to accompany them?”

“You sound suspicious,” Feitan said. “But not of Kalluto,”

Chrollo knew Kalluto was getting seasick, their youngest member trying to put on stoic mask, but it was easy to see the queasy child beneath it. The youngest Zoldyck had mentioned in passing that it was his first time being on a boat, and he was getting used to it. He had no reason to doubt Kalluto, but he did have reason to question Illumi’s absence.

Chrollo hummed in agreement to Feitan’s statement, his gut instinct telling him something was off. Machi seemed to be in a similar position, and her instincts were always accurate.

“Machi, what do you think?” he asked, watching her snap her attention to him as if she were shocked he had spoken to her despite his habit of asking her opinion frequently. “You were the one who Hisoka told his plan to first. Yesterday, you told me you didn’t trust Illumi over the phone. I want your thoughts on Illumi becoming a member per Hisoka’s request,”

“I think,” Machi paused to collect her thoughts, pursing her lips together. “Illumi and Hisoka have known each other for a while, right? And that whole engaged business makes it seem like they’re close. I doubt Illumi’s really here to kill Hisoka, and that he might be working with him to kill us from the inside, but it’s just a hunch,”

It made sense, though, Chrollo realized. He had been so stupid to miss it. Illumi was an assassin for hire, and there was a possibility that him joining the Phantom Troupe on Hisoka’s volition could be to act as a spy of some sort, feeding Hisoka information on their movements. The duo had worked together secretly in the past, usually leaving a path of death and devastation in their wake. Illumi also could get close enough to individual members and kill them quickly, his ability far more difficult to counter due to years of assassin training. 

“I just don’t like the vibe I get from him,” Phinks said flatly.

“I’ll take that into consideration,”

“I don’t trust Illumi one bit,” Nobunaga said. “He helped Hisoka slip out of the hideout in Yorknew and helped him fuck us over,”

Chrollo frowned at that new bit of information, remembering the night he last saw Pakunoda, the night he was forcibly exiled from his Spiders.

It left a bitter taste in his mouth, and he was fond of sweets.

“I’ll take that into consideration as well,” Chrollo said. “Alright. Franklin and Bonolenov, stay put for when Kalluto comes back. Machi, Nobunaga, you’ll go search the first half of the deck, and Phinks, Feitan and Shizuku will search the second,”

“Where are you going to be?” Phinks asked.

“I’m going off alone. I need to speak with Illumi,”

“I don’t think so,”

Chrollo blinked once, twice, eyes wide at Phinks’ sudden demand. He was usually the first one who followed his orders with no trouble at all, always doing as he asked.

“And why not?”

“I’m going with you,” he folded his arms across his chest, looking down at him. “If you think going off alone will help you bait Hisoka into finding you, then I’m going with you,”

“We all want to kill Hisoka, Phinks. Don’t be stubborn,” Nobunaga chimed in. “If the boss wants to go alone, let him,”

“Phinks is worried about him,” Feitan mumbled to Machi, who nodded. “Like girl with crush,”

“Hey, shut up!” Phinks growled.

Chrollo heard what was supposed to be a hushed secret between two of his Spiders, his gaze darting between them and Phinks. The set determination in Phinks’ eyes made him realize that, for once, there was no telling him what to do. He either accepted Phinks going with him or he stay put.

He sighed.

“Fine. Franklin and Bonolenov stay. Machi, Nobunaga, you search the entire deck. Phinks, Feitan, Shizuku and I will go off looking for Hisoka,”

Without any further dispute, they split off into their respective groups to continue their search.

Chrollo sometimes felt as if he were babysitting rather than leading the Troupe sometimes. They regarded his word as law, and to avoid infighting, he had established the coin toss, but now?

Now, Feitan and Phinks’ banter and bickering was starting to get under his skin, already agitated from seeing that card on his bed. It was currently stuffed into the pocket of his coat, burning a hole there.

“Please, shut up,” he snapped, something he truly disliked doing.

Feitan and Phinks both straightened at his tone, immediately ceasing their spat.

“S-sorry,” Phinks stuttered.

“Where are we heading, Boss?” Shizuku asked.

“We’re going to try to get to Tier Three. I need to go speak with Illumi about a few things,”

“Franklin said the Zodiacs are on that Tier,” Feitan said. “Should we go after them-”

Chrollo stopped in his tracks, eyes trained on the end of the hall and the turn to the next corridor.

Someone was there, waiting.

“Stop,” Chrollo held an arm out, nearly smacking Feitan in the face. “Someone’s up ahead,”

“Is it-”

“No. Someone else. I don’t sense any danger, but they’re waiting for us,”

He glared at the end of the hall, unleashing a brief amount of nen to alert whoever was waiting for them. If it was Hisoka, he hoped the magician was prepared to be teared limb from limb.

Holding out his right hand, Bandit’s Secret appeared. Flipping open to the page for Sun and Moon, he summoned Double Face into his left hand, preparing to place the bookmark within the pages. Behind him, Chrollo could hear the crack of Phinks’ shoulder as he reeled his arm back to charge his punch. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Feitan grip the hilt of his trick umbrella, Shizuku standing beside him with her head cocked to the side, Blinky held tight in her hands.

“Please, I mean you no harm,” a man said. “I don’t wish to fight you,”

At the end of the corridor, a man and woman rounded the corner. The man was tall and thin, with wild hair and tired eyes, yet he appeared to be skilled in nen if he could sense Chrollo’s. The woman was short and stout, hair pulled away from her ovular face. Both were dressed in the attire of royal guards, making Chrollo wonder why two Kakin guards would be down on the Fourth Tier. He watched as they took hesitant steps towards him, getting within arm’s reach with their hands revealed to show they were unarmed. 

Chrollo snapped the book shut, disappearing as he freed up his hands. It was only custom that if they presented themselves as such that he would as well. 

“Are you Chrollo Lucilfer?” the man asked.

“That I am, yes,”

“We’re here to bring you to Tier One. You’ve been summoned to an audience with the Eighth Queen of Kakin, Queen Oito Hui Guo Rou,”

The man handed him a sealed envelope addressed to him, the insignia of the Kakin empire stamped in a violet wax, the personal signature of the Queen beneath the seal.

“I’m busy,” he tried handing it back. “Tell her I reject her audience,”

Why would one of the lower queens want a private audience with him? What was the purpose of inviting him, the head of the Phantom Troupe, to the top Tier of the boat, knowing full well he was a professional thief?

“She said it’s urgent, and I was told to not take ‘no’ for an answer,”

Chrollo snatched the envelope back, turning it over once more in his hands. The name, Queen Oito, seemed to resonate within the recesses of his memory, something he couldn’t pinpoint. Perhaps he had seen her name on the news or in the paper at some point in time, but if she was requesting him specifically, he wondered what purpose she had to attempt to speak with him. He had made it clear to keep his identity as the leader of the Troupe a secret as best as possible, working in the shadows and keeping his name unknown, just feared.

Yet, somehow, this Kakin queen had managed to not only get his name, but his location and had _demanded_ to see him. He had to admit, that was quite bold of her.

He dug a finger under the seam of the envelope, prying it open and extracting the thick little parchment inside. It was a pass granting them access to Tier One, her neat script signing that they were VIP guests to her and to be treated as such once they set foot on the top tier.

“What’s it say?” Feitan asked, standing up on his toes to try to peer up at the invite.

Chrollo shook his head, unable to hide his smirk.

“It appears we have an audience with the Queen,” he said, turning to look at the members with him. The glint in his eyes, a shine they hadn’t seen since before Hisoka betrayed the Troupe, put them at ease.

That was the sign that Chrollo had a plan, a plan that usually involved stealing valuables.

“We’ll follow you both. Lead the way,”

“Right this way,” the woman, Shimano, Chrollo remembered, guided them. Passing the heavily guarded passageway to Tier One had been interesting, several of the guards remembering their faces from news of the auction house massacre, parting the way to let them through.

The Queen must be incredibly foolish, Chrollo mused, to allow them free access to this Tier. They had anticipated fighting their way up here, maybe stealing the special passes to secure their allowance into the upper decks, but she had given them a free pass.

What a mistake that would be. He was going to rob the Kakin of all the precious artifacts and jewels he could find, and then make the others take the rest that he himself could not bring.

This would be a cake walk.

“We’re here, Mr. Lucilfer,”

The large double doors sealing off Oito’s section of the tier were ornately decorated, gold handles and gold filigree creating intricate patterns on the frame. She grabbed the handle to one door, Bill to the other as they opened the doors for him, revealing the inside of the main chamber of her quarters.

There, however, waiting in the middle of the room, was one of the last people Chrollo wanted to see. His good mood immediately soured, and all thought of reaping the riches of the world’s most powerful empire crumbled.

“What do _you_ want?” he seethed.

He felt bile rise up in his throat, reminiscent of when he learned of Pakunoda’s death, the person responsible standing in the middle of the room, arms folded across his chest, an angry look in his scarlet eyes.

Chrollo would pluck them out of his skull before he could kill any more of his Spiders if he so much as moved from his spot.

Kurapika scowled, the infliction of Chrollo’s tone dripping with venom. The boss of the Phantom Troupe looked displeased to be there, the other Spiders behind him looking just as agitated. The one Kurapika had talked to on the phone, the idiot one, was standing at Chrollo’s side, arms folded across his chest as he glared over at him.

“It’s the Chain User!” Feitan recognized.

“If this is for revenge, I hope you’re prepared to die,” Phinks said, cracking his knuckles. “I’m still not over what you did to Uvo and Paku,”

“And you kidnapped the boss!” Shizuku piped up from behind him. “That wasn’t nice!”

“I’m not here to kill any of you, but I am disappointed that you’re back,” Kurapika fought the urge to roll his eyes when he heard Chrollo scoff. “You were summoned for a private audience with Queen Oito, Eighth Queen of the Kakin Empire,”

“Oh? Is that so? Dragging us up to the First Tier so we can get a head start on taking the riches of the empire? How kind,”

“She wants to speak with you,” Kurapika said. “And I’m only letting you speak to her under the condition that you will accept her terms,”

“What are the terms?" Phinks asked. Chrollo remained silent, pondering what possible rules their enemy could set and, depending on the rules, how he could exploit them.

“One, you will go into this audience unarmed. Under any circumstances, if your nen flares in any malicious way, I will not hesitate to kill you,”

“Of course you wouldn’t hesitate,” Chrollo said coldly. “You didn’t hesitate when you killed Uvo, nor did you hesitate when you signed Pakunoda’s death sentence,”

Kurapika’s eyes widened at the news. Oh, if only Chrollo knew the turmoil Kurapika had gone through, the inner struggle he had contemplating killing Uvogin and the emptiness he felt once he had committed the act.

“I was unaware of her death,” he admitted. “However, I wasn’t done giving the queen’s terms,”

“Continue on, then, I suppose. Make it quick. I’m a very busy man,” Chrollo sighed, folding his arms across his chest.

“Two, keep your voices at a reasonable level, do not raise your voice in any manner, especially to the queen. Finally, only Chrollo goes in to speak with her,”

“Either I bring my Spiders or I turn around and walk out that door,” Chrollo said. “You’ve interrupted our business, and I would like to get back to my search,”

Kurapika looked at Bill, who was sweating nervously. He gave a curt nod, knowing that Oito wanted this meeting to happen no matter the cost, and if that meant breaking one of her wishes, so be it.

“Fine,” Kurapika sighed. “However, all of you have to vow not to cause any harm to the queen if I allow you in,”

“We’ll accept these terms. I would like to get this audience over with,”

“Please be on your best behavior,” Kurapika threatened as he led them to another set of doors. “I know that will be hard for someone like you, but the Queen has been patiently awaiting your arrival, and it’d be best to not keep her waiting,”

Bill came over to get the doors, pushing his hands against the highly decoratively carved bubinga wood. The room hidden behind the expensive wood (Chrollo took note of the value, and those would sell for a high price), began to come into view.

A woman stood with her back to them, something in her arms. Long, wavy ebony hair spilled across her back, tied back with a golden hair pin decorated with an assortment of diamonds and rubies. Her robes were the highest of quality, fit for a queen, periwinkle in color and beautifully decorated with a floral design. She had an air of royalty to her, yet something humbling. Her gaze seemed to be focused on a large painted portrait of the Kakin family painted shortly after the birth of the youngest Prince, and Chrollo wished he could see her face so he could try to pick apart what emotion she was exhibiting.

Humans were so fascinating, especially this queen who had sought him out. 

“Your Highness,” Bill announced. “I’ve brought your guests,”

Chrollo couldn’t tear his eyes off the woman as she turned away slowly from the portrait of the Kakin Royal Family that hung above her desk. Her eyes were a similar shade of charcoal, wide in excitement as well as anxiety. She had a very lovely face, a chord of familiarity striking within him. He wracked his brain, trying to remember where he may have seen her before, but he kept coming up empty. Behind the façade of royal robes that adorned her small frame, he could see a woman who had been hardened by the trials of life, her arms wrapped tightly and protectively around the infant in her arms. The child in her arms, hair wispy and just as dark as hers, was no doubt her daughter, sleeping softly, unbothered by the dangerous people in the room.

Ah. That had been what the chain user meant by keeping their voices low, he realized.

Oito felt her breath hitch in her chest once she laid eyes on the man she had been searching for. The man before her was definitely taller than her, curious dark grey eyes observing her motions as if anticipating what her next move would be. She instinctively held Woble closer, feeling a simmering rage coming from him, one well contained, yet thoroughly dangerous. Looking at his face, she recognized the slope of his nose that was definitely her father’s, the soft jaw that belonged to her mother that they had both inherited. He appeared intimidating, yet somehow, Oito found that she couldn’t fear who he might be.

How could she fear her own little brother, her flesh and blood?

She wasn’t entirely sure how, but every fiber in her being screamed that he was a part of her, and something in her just _knew_.

She took a step forward.

Then another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said in the end notes last chapter that they would meet, and they technically have! I'm so very excited to write how Oito and Chrollo will interact in the next chapter! Hopefully I should get that out shortly due to college being closed due to the COVID-19 outbreak.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you think!  
> Until next time!


	6. Brother Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oito finally meets the man who she believes may be her long lost brother.  
> Chrollo doesn't believe he could be anyone's little brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is the title of a Suzanne Vega song, and I used a line from it as Oito's dialogue! I was listening to it when writing.

_Oito woke up to her door creaking open, the telltale heavy footsteps of her little brother padding his way into the room alerting her of who was entering. She groaned, rubbing her eyes as she flicked on the light, hoping it wouldn’t wake her other two sisters, fast asleep in their beds in their shared room._

_She was met with the sight of her two year old brother trying to climb up onto her bed, a book held tight in hand. She leaned forward, hoisting him up. He let out a yawn, rubbing a tired eye with a clenched chubby fist._

_“What’s wrong, Chrollo? Did you have a bad dream?” she asked._

_“No,” he shook his head, hair mussed from his earlier nap laying across his forehead in messy strands. “Not tired,”_

_He yawned again, lying as he crawled up closer to the top of her bed._

_“Book?” he asked, holding the book out for her. “Oito read, please?”_

_Oito couldn’t help but smile, taking the book from his hand and nestling back into bed._

_“Okay, but you need to go back to sleep afterwards, okay?”_

_“Okay,”_

_He curled up by her side, head on her shoulder as she flipped open the children’s book about a spider spinning her web and began reading._

_He was almost asleep once she finished, eyes drooping._

_“Oito sing?” he asked sleepily, letting out another big yawn._

_“Yeah, Oito sing,” she laughed softly._

_She began singing the lullaby their mother had taught her, the song he always asked her to sing. He curled up by her pillow, fast asleep not even two minutes later._

_She pressed a kiss to the top of his head before shutting off the light and going back to sleep._

Oito kept her eyes on Chrollo, recognizing features of her parents in his face, thinking of the similarities of the round little toddler’s face in her memories and comparing them to the grown man before her. He looked at her with the same quisitive stare he had given her as a child when he asked questions, almost as if he was working on picking apart what was before him to make sense of it. She felt almost too afraid to speak for fear of crying out. The last thing she wanted to do was startle him, but she wanted to know everything about him, everything he had done since they had been separated.

The room was silent, almost uncomfortably so.

“I’m sure you have quite a bit of questions, such as why you’re here,” Oito began. “I want to thank you for accepting my invitation for this-”

Woble scrunched up her face, letting out a grunt that usually meant she was about to begin fussing. Of course, when Oito had the person she had been seeking out for the past two weeks right before her, she would be interrupted when she was already trembling like a leaf from anticipation and nerves.

“Oh, dear,”

Before she could utter a cry, Oito bounced her lightly in her arms, humming the song she always sang to her. Woble settled down, the would-be cries ending just as soon as they would have started.

“That song…” Chrollo found himself begin to say, the question of where it came from at the tip of his tongue yet refusing to come out. He knew that song, had hummed it himself multiple times despite not knowing where it came from.

This woman knew the answer to a question he had silently been begging for the answer for as long as he could remember.

“You recognize it?” Oito asked, watching the man nod in reply.

He recognized it, she thought. He remembered.

The lullaby she had learned as a young girl, the one that had been sung to her and then she had sung to her siblings, was a song specific to their family, long passed down throughout the generations. By the time it had gotten to them, the words had been long forgotten, but her mother had told her that it was special due to how unique it was. Only members of their family knew it, generations tracing way far back centuries ago when the family line had been part of a line of priests before somehow winding up in Meteor City.

“It _is_ you,” Oito whispered.

She slowly walked towards him, feeling her feet carry her rather than consciously taking the steps.

Using her free hand not cradling Woble to come up and cup the side of his face. It pained her heart to see the slight flinch at the gesture, trying her best to be gentle.

“It’s really you,” it felt so good to say aloud, hope swelling her heart with joy.

“Really who?” Chrollo furrowed his brow in confusion. “What business do you have with me and why is the chain user-”

“You’re really him,” Oito felt tears threaten to fill her eyes. “My little brother,”

A beat of silence fell over the room. Kurapika clenched his fist, feeling the conjured chains dig into the skin with his white-knuckled grip. The Troupe members present were staring at one another in disbelief, then back to their boss. Chrollo looked the most confused, eyes scanning Oito’s face for something he wasn’t sure of, but he couldn’t accept the words she had just uttered.

“I think you’re mistaken,” he said, gently removing her hand from his face. “I have no family. I’m from-”

“Meteor City,” Oito finished for him, giving him a watery smile.

“I have no family,” Chrollo repeated, more to himself.

While he stated such, it was not entirely true. Chrollo, a man who sought to find the answers to who he was, had found a family within the band he had created. Each leg of the spider was not simply an underling, rather, they were a piece of himself. He found aspects of himself within each member, and they found something of themselves within him. Everything he had searched for had been before him, yet Oito was turning his world upside down. He wanted to learn more about himself, seeking his answers as he tried to make sense of the cruel world he had been raised in, yet he was starting to slowly grow content with the idea that maybe he was just simply Chrollo Lucilfer, Meteor City native and leader of the Phantom Troupe, no familial ties whatsoever.

However, now, he wasn’t so sure.

“You were very young,” Oito said. “But I know you are my brother. Mom and Dad…”

She pursed her lips, unsure of how to word it as she looked down at her sleeping daughter, her beauty, her reason for living.

She had to tell him the truth. For herself, and for Woble.

“Mom and Dad gave you up, because it’s hard to feed a family of seven when you’re dirt poor. They didn’t tell me until before they died,” she admitted. “But you’re definitely Chrollo, my little brother. I used to carry you around the house and help Mom with the chores, and-”

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’m afraid you’ve mistaken me for someone else,” Chrollo shook his head. “I’m not your brother. I hope you can find him someday, your Majesty, but I am not-”

“Yes, you are!” Oito shouted, startling the men in the room. “I know my blood when I see it! You’re my brother, why are you denying it?”

She felt her lip wobble as anger and sadness overwhelmed her. Why was he denying it? Did he not remember? How could he forget her, his sister who helped him walk, who taught him to talk, to read? The sister, who, as a toddler, he would press kisses to her cheek and tell her he loved her because she had tried to give him nothing but love as she raised him?

Even Oito had blurry memories of her early childhood, around the age he had been when her parents had taken him away. How could he not remember?

“I’m your sister, and this is your niece,” she shifted Woble in her arms. “Please, Chrollo. You’re the only family I have left besides her,”

Chrollo scanned her face, forcing himself to admit that it was a bit like looking in the mirror. She had the same face shape as he did, her eyes the same eyes he saw when he stared at his reflection. He noticed no ill intent, no malice behind those big grey eyes, nothing but hurt from his words and, dare he say, genuine care.

He noticed a flash of scarlet behind Oito, and he was reminded of the things he had done in his past. If this woman truly believed he was her younger brother, then nothing good would come of it because of who he was.

At the end of the day, he was just Chrollo Lucilfer, leader of the Phantom Troupe.

No queen would openly admit to having familial ties to someone like that.

“You don’t want a man like me as your brother,” Chrollo’s eyes met Kurapika’s, glaring over Oito’s shoulder. “We’re done speaking, your Highness. Good day,”

Chrollo turned, facing those he called family, and began to walk away.

He definitely was surprised when a dainty hand gripped his wrist, the power to snap his wrist clean in half lingering beneath the soft skin.

“Please, I can prove it,” Oito begged. “I have pictures, and-”

“Sorry, your Highness, but I think he’s done,” Phinks mediated. “We’re heading back-”

“As the Eighth Queen of Kakin, I demand you stay here and hear me out!” Oito’s voice grew stern, a shiver running down Chrollo’s spine at the decree as her nen flared briefly, like a flickering flame. “If you leave, I’ll have you all arrested and put under supervision of the Zodiacs,”

He could tell that her nen was still in the beginning of her training, still not perfectly concealed, yet he could tell that it would become strong as it developed. He was interested in her potential, curious as to what her hatsu would be once she got there.

Regardless of interest, he still refused to believe in what she said. There was no possible way.

He had a search to continue, and the fingers clenching around his wrist were preventing him from the task at hand. He could easily snap her wrist, break her fingers, but that wouldn’t benefit him at all. 

“I can’t argue with a punishment like that,” Chrollo admitted. There was no use in getting caught when they would just fight their way out, but that would cause too much attention. “If you can prove it, I’ll listen,”

He wanted to scoff, the wide-eyed look Phinks shot him nearly humorous. It was comical, he thought, how powerful he was, yet he was yielding to the demands of a woman who suddenly began spouting about sharing familial bonds with him.

Had she not been one of the queens of the royalty they were planning on robbing after killing Hisoka, he would have killed her for interfering with their business, but he did have to admit to himself that she had piqued his interest.

Oito let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding, feeling her shoulders relax as the tension began to flee her body.

“Please, if you would, sit down and make yourselves comfortable. Kurapika,” she called. “Could you please take Woble for me?”

“Of course, Your Highness,” Kurapika stepped over, arms already extended to take Woble.

Chrollo had to endure Kurapika’s red-eyed glare while Oito went over to her desk and retrieved a few pictures, holding them close to her chest as she walked back over. From what he could see, the pictures were older and fraying at the ends from wear and travel, the chicken scratch of a man’s handwriting on the back of a few of them.

Oito laid them out carefully onto the table as they sat down on the plush couches, her hands noticeably trembling as Chrollo glanced between her and the pictures. Chrollo leaned over to get a better look, and he could sense Phinks and Shizuku hovering over his shoulders to look as well.

“There’s me,” Oito pointed a long, manicured finger at a small girl dressed in a raggedy dress. “And there’s you,”

The picture was one that had to have been posed for. A man and a woman, both with features Chrollo could see in Oito, stood in the middle, their children surrounding them. Three girls and two boys, Oito in the middle in front of her parents with a newborn baby with her other siblings flanking her sides.

“That could be any baby,” Chrollo said, feeling a bit idiotic once he said it.

Oito looked up from the picture to meet Chrollo’s eyes, her hand moving to the next picture.

“We didn’t get to take pictures often,” Oito said softly, more to herself and Chrollo than to the rest of the occupants in the room. “But my eldest brother found a camera that automatically developed the pictures, and he took as many as he could until the film ran out. He said he was going to be a famous photographer, and be rich,”

“What happened to him?”

“The King had him killed,” Oito paused to look at her eldest brother’s face, captured in its youth. “He…once the King started courting me, he was against me going. I’m the middle child and he always bullied me when we were growing up. One night, we got into an argument and he…He shoved me into a wall so hard I pulled a muscle in my back and couldn’t move without being in pain for two days. The King had him killed, and he proposed to me shortly after,”

“And your other siblings?”

“He had them killed, too,” Oito looked down at her hands, nervously held in her lap. “My sisters were jealous of me, and he disliked them from the beginning, so they were put to death, as well. Had I known I would be all alone, I would have never told him of them,”

Oito had never told anyone that story, but here, before the man who she believed to be her little brother, it felt right to share.

“That’s you,” Oito pointed again, this time to a toddler. Chrollo leaned over to pick up the picture, processing the image before him. Oito was roughly eight years old, he supposed, the child with her possibly three or four. She had him propped on her hip, smiling at the camera as the toddler gripped a thick strand of her hair, moments from pulling it.

“That does look a lot like you, Boss,” Shizuku was now leaning over his shoulder, pointing at the child’s face. “See? Right there, in the eyes and mouth. This whole part of your face hasn’t changed much,”

“Shizu, he’s not sure that is him,” Feitan chided.

“But I’m right, right?”

“This one was…” Oito felt a lump in her throat rising. “This one was taken before Mom and Dad abandoned you,”

The last picture was of the child on the lap of Oito’s mother, staring intently at her as she read a book. It was cropped enough that Chrollo couldn’t tell if she was reading aloud or to herself, but the toddler looked enraptured by the thick tome in her hand, so he assumed the former.

He had to admit, the child in the pictures did look a lot like him.

“They never told me they were leaving you,” Oito sniffled, feeling the sting of tears prick in her eyes. “Mom and Dad went out with you one day, and then came home and said you were dead. I couldn’t believe them. I cried and cried, and missed you terribly so. When they told me that there was a chance you were still alive, I wanted to begin looking for you, but I had nowhere to start, and with Nasubi courting me and getting married and having Woble, I had no time to think,”

“How did you find me?”

He had mastered concealing his presence from the general public after carefully crafting it the first few years of practicing thievery outside of Meteor City, disappearing as soon as he came without a trace. The only people who were able to successfully track him down were members of the Phantom Troupe and, sadly, Hisoka.

If what she said was true, that she had no idea of where to begin the search for her missing brother, how did she happen to stumble across him, a man who practically did not exist outside of the underground world of murder and thieving?

“I found you through one of your matches at Heaven’s Arena,”

Chrollo felt something he wasn’t sure how to describe, a concoction of hurt at the reality that, if he truly was her brother, he had been abandoned and forced into a cruel world alone at such a young age, but also of something fond knowing that, if he was her brother, she had always cared for him even in the instance of not knowing whether he was alive or not. Hearing her begin to cry about a brother she loved and cared for so much that, well over twenty years later, she would do whatever she could to find him made him feel comforted, in a sense. He never assumed he would be anyone’s true family, the bonds between those he chose to accompany himself with more important than blood, but for once, he was stunned to the point where he didn’t really know what to think. 

It wasn’t a feeling he enjoyed, rather, it was making him uncomfortable, but she was sincere and honest about her past and feelings, and he valued that.

Oito looked down at the separate stack of photographs she had carefully hidden from his view, eyes going from Chrollo to the images she had received from the journalist. She pursed her lips, wondering if she should reveal her acquisition of what appeared to be personal photos of his.

“I would prefer you reveal everything you’re hiding, your Majesty, or I walk out that door. I have a lot to get done and I would like to get back to it as quickly as possible,” Chrollo crossed his legs, looking displeased. “How did you find me?”

“The royal family has access to a private stream of fights between floormasters at Heaven’s Arena,” Oito began. “My husband and a few of my stepchildren are fond of those matches,”

“So you saw my fight,” it had been his debut fight as a floormaster.

“Yes. I personally am not a fan of fights, I don’t like violence whatsoever, but once they announced your name and showed your face, I couldn’t help but watch until the footage cut out at the first large explosion,” she admitted. “You looked just like how I imaged my little brother would look as a grown man, yet also…”

“Quite different, I suppose,”

Her eyes were drawn to the cross tattooed on his forehead, the tired look in his eyes that made him seem wiser than his rather youthful age.

Definitely not what she had imaged he would look like, as she took in the fur trimmed coat, the heavy boots, the leather. Then again, the last she had seen him, he was three, closer to four, and dressed in a t-shirt and shorts to combat the desert heat.

“Yes,”

“How does this relate to the pictures you’re hiding from me?”

Oito laid them out before him, watching his face. His eyes widened with recognition, a mixed look between hurt and rage flashing briefly behind the stony grey.

“Where did you get this,” he didn’t ask, his tone demanding an answer.

“A journalist from Heaven’s Arena approached my guards about information once he saw that I had placed an ad up on the Hunter website, and-”

Chrollo drowned out Oito’s explanation on how she came into possession of his own personal pictures, pictures he had kept hidden in a worn copy of the first book of poetry he had read. He looked between the pictures scattered about, the one of Pakunoda with her arm looped around him after they had snuck into the national museum and made off with a vintage pistol worth millions for her and a medieval manuscript he had his eye on holding his attention. A picture, taken by Shalnark during Uvogin’s twenty sixth birthday celebration laid beside it, Chrollo laughing as he leaned onto their giant of a friend. He thought of the memory fondly, how Uvogin had put him on his shoulders and they had run amok around town that night.

Those pictures were special memories of cherished moments spent with those he cared for.

Hisoka knew of those pictures and their existence, had even prodded Chrollo after the auction heist after they had had a few drinks in them about it.

“-his name was something strange, but he was reporting for a popular fight magazine, if I recall correctly. Poor thing nearly got caught up in that explosion, but he wouldn’t tell me what caused it-”

“There was no reporters in that arena during my match,” Chrollo interrupted. “It was only available for the fighters in the arena. I specifically requested no media,”

“Oh,” Oito’s brow furrowed.

“Well, he said he was in the audience, and that he knew a bit about you,”

“He?”

“He said his name was…” Oito paused, a hand on her chin as she tried to remember. “He had such a strange name. Judas, I believe? Yes! Judas Ab…Abaddon, I think,”

That name was definitely fake, Chrollo realized. No real person would be named that. He himself had created the last name ‘Lucilfer’ as a method of establishing an identity for himself.

Judas, a disciple, like a leg of the Spider, the famed betrayer of Jesus, the man Chrollo himself believed to not be a traitor. Abaddon, translated in Greek to Apollyon, realm of the dead, a place of destruction.

Chief demon of the seventh realm in demonology, the Destroyer.

All he could think of was Hisoka’s moniker at Heaven’s Arena, known as the Grim Reaper of the tower based upon the body count of his past challengers and the similarities to the name the journalist had given Oito.

Oito could sense his nen flare, just a hint of bloodlust simmering beneath the controlled surface.

“Tell me everything about your meeting with that man, _now_ ,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I got the idea to write this fic, their reunion scene was actually the very first thing I wrote! I wanted to write while I had the idea very fresh in my head on how I wanted their meeting to go, how Chrollo is unsure of whether or not he is (or wants to be) someone's sibling and Oito being so excited yet nervous to see his reaction.
> 
> (quite personally, I prefer Chrollo to have no ties to any sort of legacy/family whatsoever, but I do love this theory despite how ridiculous it is and I can't stop writing this story lol)
> 
> I had to rework this chapter a few times (at least five, I lost count after a bit) because I was unhappy with it, and I still am a little unhappy with it, but the chapter is done and that's that.  
> Next chapter is going to focus a little less on Chrollo and Oito and focus more on a few other passengers on the boat (mini spoiler but one of them is Leorio! I'm so excited to write him!).  
> Once again, thank you so much for reading! I love getting feedback, so if you want, please let me know what you think!


	7. Working With the Enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An update on two arrested Zoldycks and a Zodiac, as well as an alliance between two enemies.

_This time, their hideout was an abandoned library, the smell of old books and mold permeating through the air no matter how many windows they opened. Nobunaga assumed it had something to do with the Spiders being a bit heartsick over Chrollo’s sudden disappearance after the Yorknew heist, the boss having a fondness for books. Feitan had immediately dismissed that notion, but everyone felt the same._

_Well, all but one, but their newest member had yet to meet Chrollo, but Kalluto could tell there was an ambience of melancholy amongst them._

_The Phantom Troupe seldom gathered together, but with Chrollo being gone, it seemed that they were more reluctant to depart from one another for too long. The fortunes that had been read had been too accurate, too serious to take lightly that it felt only natural for them to move together as a group. Phinks would never voice it, since Feitan would probably threaten to rip his toenails off one by one or shove bamboo shoots up under his fingernails, but he also believed it had to do with their newest, and also youngest, member._

_Kalluto was still so green, yet so hardened by years of assassination training. Being approached by the ten year old was a bit shocking, but after he had explained his eldest brother had informed him of Hisoka’s betrayal and subsequent departure from the group, it was hard to say no._

_Kalluto, Phinks noticed, was sitting in the corner of the room, folding paper and unraveling it to reveal little paper dolls, repeating the motion over and over again._

_There was a loud thud at the desk, Machi letting out a sigh of relief as she plopped down into the desk chair, the huge tome covered in dust in front of her._

_“I don’t see why we need to look at a dusty ass book to find out our getaway route,” Phinks groaned._

_“I have no internet here, and we need a map of the original layout of the sewers,” Shalnark held his phone up, face scrunched up when he kept seeing no bars. “Feitan! Why did you pick the worst place ever? I had better service back home!”_

_Franklin snorted at the comment, Feitan simmering with rage from his perch on one of the lower bookshelves._

_“Wow, he’s finally normal height!”_

_Kalluto perked his head up at the cackling that came from Phinks, Shalnark and Franklin, followed by a yelp as Feitan threw a book. Kalluto really didn’t understand why the others often teased Feitan for his height; Machi and Shizuku weren’t much taller, and Kalluto was shorter than him._

_Feitan cursed in his native language, a strand of babble in comparison to the normal Meteor City dialect._

_All friendly banter silenced quickly once they all sensed someone with powerful nen making their way towards them._

_Phinks clenched his jaw, a curse on the tip of his tongue._

_“Someone’s coming,”_

_Footsteps resounded through the hall, startling the members. Kalluto watched, a bit in awe, at how the founding members immediately readied themselves for defense, an overwhelming amount of powerful nen filling the air of the room._

_The footsteps grew closer, the intruder close to entering the room and their line of sight. Nobunaga had already unsheathed his sword, the silence broken by footsteps and the cracking of Phinks’ knuckles._

_Their intruder entered the room, the malicious amount of nen dispersing with relief and excitement. Kalluto observed the man, brow furrowed at why the members of the Troupe were acting so strange. He had to be near his mid to late twenties, slightly taller than average. Pale skin, dark black hair slicked back and away from his face, revealing a soft smile and inquisitive charcoal eyes. His stance was relaxed, as if he anticipated their reaction, his shoulders lightly shaking from a silent laugh._

_For someone who just walked into a den of thieves, he sure looked happy. There was only one person Kalluto could think of that the man would be._

_“Boss!” the Troupe shouted in unison, Kalluto left perplexed at the person before them._

_“It’s so good to see your faces once more,”_

_It was Phinks who approached him first, too overwhelmed with joy to resist the urge to wrap his arms around Chrollo and hoist him up in a tight hug, Chrollo’s laugh like music to their ears. Nobunaga joined in, crying through his laughter. Feitan, who usually wore a permanent scowl, was even smiling._

_“Come here,” Chrollo freed one of his arms to wave over the rest of the members._

_It felt so good to be home, Chrollo thought. Home, the members of the Troupe in front of him, alive and accounted for, safe in sight. He felt his shoulders relax in their shared embrace, a sigh of relief escaping his lips._

_“Are you alright?” Machi asked, giving him a once-over, eyes searching for any possible injuries._

_“We missed you a whole bunch!” Shalnark said. “Especially Phinks, he wouldn’t stop talking about you!”_

_“Hey!”_

_“Someone missed Boss the most,” Feitan pressed, Shalnark trying to muffle his snickering behind his hand._

_“I’ll kill you,”_

_“I missed you all, as well,” Chrollo admitted. “It was rather lonely without you all,”_

_He did a quick headcount, taking into consideration the loss of their beloved Uvo as well as Hisoka’s betrayal. His smile slowly faded as he noticed that he was one Spider short and had one new face._

_“Who are you?” he asked, watching the newest addition stand ramrod straight._

_Kalluto felt a shiver run down his spine at Chrollo’s piercing gaze, the boss watching his face intently, as if trying to pick apart who he was._

_Silence fell over the Troupe, the veteran members not wanting to deny their newest addition his first chance to introduce himself to the boss._

_“You look an awful lot like that boy we met in Yorknew,” Chrollo finally said. “Are you two related, perhaps? No, you remind me a bit more of someone else…Those eyes remind me of someone I’ve fought before,”_

_“M-my name is Kalluto,” Kalluto mentally screamed at himself for stuttering once he saw Shalnark hide a giggle behind his hand. “Kalluto Zoldyck,”_

_“Ah,” Chrollo said. “That’s why you look familiar. Welcome to the Phantom Troupe, Kalluto. I’m pleased to have you as our new number four,”_

_“Thank you,”_

Kalluto sighed, remembering his first day as a true member of the Phantom Troupe, the day the Troupe was whole again and he felt welcomed with open arms by the boss.

He hated being trapped in the monitored cabin the Zodiacs had put him in. The room was bare, and there was nothing to do except stare at the walls, think, or twiddle his thumbs.

They refused to give him paper, fearing he might cut it up and use it as a weapon. No pens, no pencils, nothing to write or draw in the event he managed to write something and send it for the Troupe to read. As if he even knew where anyone was, anyway. Illumi had all but demanded he split off with him, not giving Kalluto the chance to pick which group he wanted to join.

If it were up to him, he would have trailed after the boss. Something about Chrollo made Kalluto feel like his voice was heard when he spoke, like his opinion mattered, and even though he was the youngest, Chrollo treated him equal to the rest of them.

It felt nice, and even though the boss had been acting different than usual, Kalluto still wanted to help as much as he could, even if the target was his big brother’s fiancé.

He was just thankful that he wasn’t rooming with Illumi. Illumi had made it clear from the get-go of their temporary arrests that he wanted a private room, and Kalluto was relieved.

He loved his family. He really did, even with Illumi’s overbearing nature and the fact that his parents had locked away his sister for about eight years of her life, but he loved them because they were his family, and he felt that because of the blood ties they shared, he had to love them.

Kalluto first learned what a family was, shockingly, when he joined the Phantom Troupe.

He was hesitant to speak, during those first few weeks after initiation, after seeking them out and joining them. He was scared, having run away from home, that they would just view him as the ten year old child he was, leave him at the testing gates in Padokea, and then run off again. They had been searching for their leader at the time, the mood somber, but little pieces of the lightheartedness from the past would shine through at times.

Nobunaga would ramble all about the different battles he had fought with his best friend, who had been recently deceased, always a smile on his face as he recalled times where they were overwhelmed with enemies, only for the two to fight back to back and mow them all down, emerging victorious for the day.

Phinks talked a lot about sitting around, doing nothing in between missions and playing video games with their friend, Shalnark. He once told a story about how they all tried playing a multiplayer party game, but Chrollo got so mad he slammed down his controller and stormed out of the room to go read because he ‘didn’t know how to play,’ which, Phinks translated, meant he was tired of Shalnark kicking his ass at the minigames.

Machi often spoke fondly of early days of the Troupe, little stories here and there of their first big heist that had gone successfully, the first time they had all left Meteor City together. Kalluto’s favorite story Machi told was of the time they had all gone out to celebrate something, she couldn’t remember, and they all got so drunk they woke up the next day halfway across the continent and surrounded in the middle of a field with a ton of stolen items.

Turns out, she later learned as she told Kalluto the story, they had broken into a billionaire’s home, stole all of the art pieces he had collected, got into a fight with his security guards, and then somehow stole a car, got pulled over, ran from the cops, and passed out in the middle of the woods.

It was fun, as she put it. Kalluto wouldn’t know, since he was only ten, but getting drunk and becoming wanted criminals in half the states of the Saherta did sound like a fun time.

He sighed, lost in thought. That was the only thing he could do, now, locked alone in the room.

“I told you not to fight anyone you didn’t have a one-hundred percent chance at winning against,” Illumi frowned, dabbing the alcohol soaked cotton ball against the deep gash on Kalluto’s arm. He hissed at the pain from the disinfectant burning at the cut, arm beginning to go numb from Illumi’s iron grip on his forearm.

“I’m sorry, Illu-ni, but-”

“No buts,” Illumi shot him a harsh look. “I told you, I trained you not to go up against opponents that you knew were out of your league,”

Kalluto felt himself sink lower into the seat, trying to make himself small as Illumi scolded him, digging a needle into the skin with force as he stitched the gash shut.

“Don’t disappoint us next time,” Illumi sighed, sitting back on his heels. “Now, go. You need to report to Dad,”

“Yes, Illu-ni,”

He knew Illumi was only lecturing him to get him to do better, but it still hurt to come home, still successful but injured, and have everyone he looked up to and admired be upset with his performance.

He felt utterly hopeless after that mission.

He was eight.

Why were they all so much stronger than he was?

Why was he so behind them?

Why was he so _weak_?

He snapped his fan open, covering his face as he felt hot tears sting at his eyes. Before him, Nobunaga and Feitan were bragging about their success, the guard blocking them from the jewel safe a powerful emitter who had been a small challenge to fight. He could hear Shizuku piping up here and there, asking about the details that she had forgotten, but Kalluto just couldn’t help but feel useless.

All he managed to take out were some of the weaker guards, too busy toying with his prey like a child figuring out how to break their toys, and he felt like he hadn’t done anything.

Six months. He had been with them for _six_ _months_ and he felt useless.

He hated that he cried when he got angry. Tears were a sign of childishness, of foolishness. No matter how hard the lessons were drilled into his head at such a young age, he still couldn’t help the tears of frustration that came with disappointment. Illumi would be so disappointed if he knew all that training went to waste, or Mama would find out and-

“Well done, Kalluto,”

Kalluto startled at the warm hand that gripped his shoulder, looking up to see the boss smiling down at him, eyes crinkled up with how hard he was smiling.

“You did well, and I’m very proud,” Chrollo stated.

“I feel like I did nothing…” Kalluto admitted, eyes darting back to the more useful Troupe members.

“You did something by assisting the collective rather than barging in and fighting them all by yourself,” Chrollo said. “The whole purpose of the Troupe is to aide one another. That’s why we work as a team. Very seldom do we do solo missions,”

Chrollo gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze before pulling his hand back.

“I made sure to have Phinks pick up some juice for you for when we celebrate later,” he said. “I want to include you in on our celebratory toast, and since you’re not old enough to drink, I figured it’d be a suitable replacement,”

“Hey, Chrollo! C’mere, we need your opinion on something!” Nobunaga shouted, waving Chrollo over.

Chrollo gave a fake exasperated sigh, smiling at Kalluto once more.

“Duty calls,” he said lightheartedly. “You did a good job,”

Kalluto’s family never told him ‘good job,’ never so much as acknowledged him when he came back from contracts successful.

Finding the person he was looking for was relatively easy, Mizaistom thought as he entered the med bay on Tier Three. Amidst the bustle of medical personnel and patients being directed was Leorio, clipboard in hand and doling out orders as if he was a born professional.

As proud as he was at how well Leorio was adjusting to becoming a Zodiac as well as a medic, he was a man on a mission.

He walked over to Leorio, who was discussing a chart with a nurse.

“I hate to interrupt, but may I borrow him for a moment?” Mizai asked, watching the nurse nod and head off towards a patient’s cot.

“What’s up, Mizai?” Leorio asked. “I’m kinda busy at the moment, so can we-”

“Leorio, I need you to come with me, quickly,”

“Yeah, sure. Just lemme tell my supervising resident,”

The exchange was brief, Leorio already shucking off his gloves and masks on the way out of the med bay as he followed after Mizai.

“So, what’s so important?” Leorio asked. “We’re having a bad case of seasickness amongst the passengers, and some are coming up with some flu-like symptoms, so we need to work on not spreading that to the whole ship-”

“We have two of the Phantom Troupe here,” Mizai interrupted in a hushed voice. “They’re also both Zoldycks,”

“What?!” Leorio shouted, stopping in his tracks. “What do you mean ‘they’re also both Zoldycks’?”

“We have Illumi Zoldyck in a private room, as per his request,” Mizai began walking, Leorio rushing to catch up to his long strides. “But we also have the youngest,”

“The youngest?”

Leorio thought back on when he, Gon and Kurapika had pushed past the insanely heavy testing gates, how crazy Killua’s mother had been. He vaguely remembered a small child clinging to the skirts of her dress, shy as he peered around her to see the visitors. It had to have been Kalluto, since Killua and Alluka were still off nowhere to be found.

The holding bay wasn’t terribly far from the med bay, the two reaching their destination quickly.

Mizai pressed his keycard against the reader, the doors unlocking for them.

“It’s impossible to talk to Illumi. He won’t budge or disclose information now that we’ve brought him here. We assume it has nothing to do with the Troupe, since he’s the newest member, but he still is wanted after the Swardani incident,”

“With the needlemen?” Leorio shuddered, remembering the news the following day after the madness that had been the Chairman’s Election, the bodies lining the street with needles embedded into their skulls, motionless puppets that had died.

“He technically can get away with it as a Hunter, but since he was trying to interfere with another set of reputable Hunters’ mission, he can still be charged,” Mizai lead them down a hall, various doors lining each side. To Leorio, they looked like the average cabin doors that lined the dormitory wings of the ship, just lacking keyhole windows.

“You’re good with kids,” Mizai sighed. “I’m not good at talking to them. I’m too strict, but I saw how Gon and Killua acted around you. You’ve got a good heart, Leorio, and I need you to help me,”

They stopped in front of a door near the end of the hall, the guard brandishing a key and unlocking the door.

The guard opened the door and stepped aside, allowing the two Zodiacs to enter the room. Leorio felt a pang of sympathy at the child sitting at the edge of the bed, legs a shy short of touching the floor. He remembered the child, Kalluto, he remembered, looking at the three of them when they had made it to the main pathway leading to the Zoldyck house with curious eyes. Now, Kalluto sat with his head in his hands, staring glumly at the floor. He looked tired, and so small and frail. Something in Leorio made him want to go coddle him, some latent parental instinct despite not having any children of his own made him want to wrap a blanket around the kid’s shoulders, give him a cup of hot chocolate and cheer him up and let him know he’d be okay.

He also had to remind himself that this was an assassin he was dealing with, one that was just as skilled as Killua was. Leorio sometimes had nightmares of how haunting Killua had looked at the hunter exam, the vacant look in his eyes as he killed Bodoro right in front of him to get himself disqualified.

“What do you want?” Kalluto asked, voice void of any emotion.

“Kalluto Zoldyck, you’re being charged with participating within an illegal organization holding Class-A bounties,” Mizai dictated. “Due to there being lack of evidence of you participating within any crimes that have put the Phantom Troupe on our wanted list, we’re offering to cut you a deal,”

“I don’t want it,” Kalluto said.

“Due to your age and status, we’re offering to let you go on a probational period,” Mizai continued. “It would be in your best decision to accept this deal, the only thing we want from you is for you to disclose to us what the Phantom Troupe is doing on this ship,”

“I’m not telling you,” Kalluto folded into himself, and Leorio frowned. He really didn’t like debating with kids, but this felt…wrong.

Kalluto was a child, yet there was a potential that he could face criminal charges akin to an adult’s just from denying cooperation. That didn’t sit well with Leorio, especially after seeing the turnabout that had been Killua.

If Killua could change, then so could Kalluto.

“Listen, kid,” Leorio began. “We just really wanna know what you guys are up to, and if it’s nothing sinister, we’ll let you go. It’s your best option, so to prevent any problems, just work with us and things will be easy, okay?”

“I know you,” Kalluto’s eyes widened in recognition. “You’re Kil’s friend, aren’t you? Reolio?”

“My name’s Leorio!”

Kalluto let out a small huff of laughter.

“I like Reolio better,”

“Well, I don’t, kid!”

“Leorio,”

“What?!” Leorio snapped, turning to see the stern look on Mizai’s face. “Oh, yeah. Sorry ‘bout that…anyways, kid, please, just take the deal. You don’t want to be associated with the Phantom Troupe,”

“Yes, I do!” Kalluto unfurled from himself, standing up now with his fists clenched at his sides. “I’m not telling you anything because they’re my friends!”

“Friends?! Do you even know what you’re doing, getting involved with the Phantom Troupe!?” Leorio scolded. “You’re like, eight! Do you know what kind of people they are?!”

“I’m _ten_ , and of course I do!” Kalluto said. “Because at least _they_ care about me more than my own family does!”

Leorio wasn’t good with kids crying. When it came to administering shots, he usually made silly faces to distract the kids from the brief pinch of pain. He hated seeing children hurt, hated seeing them in pain, which was why he had tried too hard to be the funny guy when he was with Gon and Killua.

Now, as he watched Kalluto try to keep a straight face, big crocodile tears threatening to roll down cheeks that still held baby fat, he remembered just how young this child was.

“Kid, of course your family cares about you, and even if they didn’t, that doesn’t excuse getting involved with a band of murderers and thieves,” Leorio lowered his tone. “What do you think Killua would think if he knew you were hanging around them?”

“He wouldn’t think, because he acts like I don’t exist! They all do! Illu-ni’s just bigger and stronger than me, and Millu doesn’t talk to me at all, and Kil’s the favorite and when he came back, he didn’t even see me! He just took Alluka because he only loves her!” now Kalluto was sobbing, shoulders shaking as he struggled to breath from crying so hard. “And Dad ignores me, and Mama started getting mean once Kil left for good, and the only thing I could think of was to go do something to make them happy, so I joined the Troupe, and, and-”

“Easy, kiddo, easy,” Leorio said softly, coming to put his hands on Kalluto’s shoulders.

“They were the o-only ones who treated m-me like f-family,” Kalluto sobbed. “P-please, don’t arrest them, they’re not here to k-kill your f-friend!”

Leorio looked over at Mizai, frowning. His heart broke at this poor kid who had been in the shadows of all of his elder siblings practically since birth, only finding solace and a semblance of familial love within a band of murderous thieves.

“We won’t arrest them, but your big brother will have to stay here,” Mizai said. “We have some questions to ask him about the incidents in Swardani and Padokea involving his needlemen,”

Kalluto nodded, bringing a hand up to wipe the tears from his eyes.

“Listen, kiddo,” Leorio sighed. “You really shouldn’t be getting involved with people like the Phantom Troupe. They’ve done a lot of harm, and killed a lot of people-”

“My family is literally a bunch of assassins,” Kalluto sniffled. “I killed my first target by the time I was four,”

“We may still need to speak with them, just to make sure they won’t be a threat,” Mizai sighed. “Alright. We’ll just keep you here until we stop to resupply, but then you’re going on the first boat back home,”

Kalluto looked up at Leorio with sad watery eyes, and he felt his resolve crumble.

“Actually, Mizai,” Leorio said. “I’ll keep watch of Kalluto. He’ll be safe with me,”

“He’ll be safe if he stays here,”

“He’ll be miserable if you keep him cooped up in this tiny room!” Leorio argued. “You can trust me. Zodiac to Zodiac,”

Mizai sighed, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Fine! Just don’t let him get in contact with the rest of the Troupe,” he said, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “I have to go check on the Chairman. We’ll discuss finding someone to take over your shifts so you can keep an eye on this one, but you may still be on call if you’re absolutely needed,”

“Of course,” Leorio nodded. “Can we, I dunno, get the kid out of here and like, in an actual room?”

“I can arrange something,” Mizai said. “Just make sure he doesn’t get near anything he can use as a weapon. Don’t forget, that kid’s an assassin,”

Leorio scowled.

“He’s right here, ya know,” he chided. “I’ll be fine,”

“Keep me posted,” Mizai said, turning on his heel to storm out angrier than a bull. “I’m going to see the Chairman,”

Once Mizai was out, Leorio let out a sigh. His attention was drawn back to Kalluto once the child sniffled, using the sleeve of his kimono to wipe his tears. Wordlessly, Leorio held out a handkerchief for him to blow his nose, watching Kalluto take it hesitantly.

“Killua does care about you, ya know,” Leorio said. “He talked about you a bit,”

“He did?”

“Yeah,” Leorio held out a hand. “We had a nice picnic in Yorknew Central Park, and he talked a bit about you guys and how you used to do big family picnics, and then he told us the story about you all playing hide and seek to work on concealing your _hatsu_ ,”

Kalluto let out a short laugh.

“Kil fell from a tree because Illu-ni snuck up on him and scared him,” Kalluto recalled. “And Millu-ni couldn’t climb the tree to come get me out once I got stuck in the branches,”

Leorio put a firm hand on his shoulder.

“C’mon, kid. Let’s get you out of here,” Leorio said. “I dunno about you, but I’m starving and could use some lunch. Want some?”

Kalluto nodded, giving him a small smile, and Leorio felt like he was doing something right.

Being essentially grounded to his room wasn’t quite what Illumi had planned, sitting on the edge of his bed and absentmindedly braiding his hair. Getting arrested by the Zodiacs was something he had forgotten to factor into his plan when he was drafting it, but he was the eldest Zoldyck son. He would figure a way out.

The cabin he had been placed in was spartan, not much other than a bed and a small nightstand, but that was fine. Illumi himself was his deadliest weapon anyway, and though he preferred using his needles, he could snap a neck with ease if need be.

He would find a way out, ensure Kalluto’s safety as planned, then as soon as his little brother was kept back, he would go through with the plan as intended.

It was a shame, really. He somewhat liked working with Chrollo, despite having known him for a shorter amount of time than Hisoka. Chrollo paid well and was interesting company, but Illumi had a contract to fulfil and a fiancé to appease.

He sighed, giving up on braiding his hair as he carded through it to somewhat brush out the tangles. If he timed it correctly, his guard would be bringing him a meal within five minutes, and that would be his chance.

Five minutes later, on the dot, a body hit the door with a thump, the key sliding into the lock.

“Took you long enough,”

“My, oh my, dear. That’s not how you greet your betrothed when he comes to save you,” Hisoka smiled, twirling the key ring around one bungee-gum prosthetic finger.

“I didn’t realize I needed a theoretical ‘knight in shining armor’ to come rescue me,” Illumi stood, brushing his hair back over his shoulder. “But thank you for taking your sweet time getting here,”

“Of course! You know, you could fit the part of a princess,” Hisoka teased, stepping aside to let Illumi past him. They had to walk over the slumped over body of the guards on duty, bodies either riddled with cards or beaten hard enough that they were unrecognizable. "You know, you could've broken out if you really didn't want to wait for me,"

"I could have," Illumi shrugged, pulling a needle from his vest. "But that would endanger Kalluto. By the way, is he safe?"

“Of course he is. He’s still in his room. What kind of fiancé do you take me for? You wound me,” Hisoka laced his fingers through Illumi’s, bringing the hand up to press a kiss to his knuckles. “Now, come with me. We have some spiders to kill,”

“Wait,” Illumi pulled his hand from Hisoka’s, tugging up the sleeve of his shirt. “Can you take this off? It’s irritating my skin,”

“Of course, dear,” Hisoka took Illumi’s arm in his grasp, tugging lightly at the piece of Texture Surprise. The fake spider tattoo pulled off his forearm with ease, the scarf falling onto the floor. “Now, can we go?”

“Lead the way,” 

Chrollo had his mind made up.

He had to stay in contact with this queen, regardless if she thought he was her long lost sibling or not, because she had come into contact with Hisoka. She would be his key to getting Hisoka’s head as the centerpiece to his victory banquet with his Spiders. After her explanation, he could tell that she really was just a woman searching for her lost brother, and happened to stumble across Hisoka unknowingly. If he assisted her in any way she needed, there was a possibility he could get her to initiate another meeting with Hisoka, and that would be his time to strike.

However, he realized, that meant working with the chain user.

“I know I must sound mad, but I truly believe you are my little brother. If you could, I would greatly appreciate it if you stayed up here,” Oito said, hands now holding her daughter. “I can see about accommodating you and your comrades,”

“That would be nice, thank you,” Chrollo said. “I would like to speak to your bodyguard in private before discussing any further,”

“Oh! Of course,” Oito turned to look at Kurapika. “You two can speak in the hall,”

“Perfect,” Kurapika grit his teeth, leading the way. He didn’t need to turn to see Chrollo stand from his seat and follow.

As soon as the doors shut behind them, leaving them alone in the hall, there was no need to keep up a friendly façade and nor hold back for the sake of the queen.

“Some bodyguard you are,” Chrollo said. “You let Hisoka get near your client while you were too busy napping. She could have been killed,”

“Don’t you dare question my ability to protect my clients!” Kurapika snapped. “It’s not like I had a choice. I was unconscious,”

“So you’re sleeping on the job,”

“Shut up!” Kurapika snapped, anger flaring at Chrollo’s snarky tone. “I’ll punch you,”

“I’ve taken a hit from you, it’s not that bad. Shizuku punches harder than you can blindfolded,”

“I don’t care,” Kurapika rolled his eyes. “If Queen Oito didn’t believe you were her brother, you would have been thrown off this boat by now for all I care. Now, what do you want?”

“First, I want an answer. Why are you a bodyguard, and why is it so important to keep that baby alive?”

“That baby could be your potential niece, so I’d watch your mouth,” Kurapika said. “I was hired by Queen Oito to protect her and Prince Woble for the duration of the Succession Contest,”

“Succession?”

“The Princes of Kakin have nen beasts and are attempting to assassinate one another using guards and assassins in ensure their spot on the throne. Whoever comes out victorious is the next crowned king,”

Chrollo saw an advantage to be taken, and a weakness to be exploited. The thought put a small smile on his face. 

“Anything else?”

“I want to propose a deal, of sorts. This time, we’re doing it on my terms,” Chrollo said. “My Spiders and I will assist you in protecting your queen and her daughter. We will do so under the assumption that, since Hisoka has visited with her, he may put her life in danger due to her…assumption that I am her long lost brother. What we want in return is that you will not kill us in some childish act of revenge for the duration of us working together,”

“Like I want to work with scum like you!” Kurapika clenched his fist tight over his left breast, the other hand dangerously close to the gun holstered at his hip.

Closing tired scarlet eyes, he let out a deep sigh through his nose.

“Queen Oito does want us to get along, despite that being utterly impossible,” he continued. “I will always hate you for what you did,”

“I honestly don’t care,”

“Do you want to get your clown or not?” Kurapika snapped. “If you really want Hisoka dead, since he is a former member of the Troupe and has been a nuisance to me in the past, I will aid in his capture. I’ll save the murder for you. Unlike you, I don’t enjoy taking lives,”

“Do you accept my terms or not? Because to me, it looks like you have a plethora of guards who are unskilled and are essentially fodder for skilled nen users. Either you accept my terms and I help you get your Queen and Prince out of this contest safely, or I walk away with my Spiders and you can flounder about with your useless guards,”

Kurapika scowled. He had a mission to fulfil.

“I accept, but only if you accept my conditions. If we have to work together, you have to accept them,”

“Bargaining with scum like me now? That was fast,”

“The condition will be that under any circumstances, you will not use yourself or your nen to cause any bodily harm to Queen Oito and Prince Woble,” Kurapika explained, the glint of the chains in the light of the room catching Chrollo’s eye. “The second condition is that you may not attack me, and only use your nen against those who threat the safety of the queen and Woble,”

“I’ll still be able to keep in contact with my Spiders?”

“You’re getting ahead of me. Don’t speak unless I speak to you,” Kurapika clenched his fist. “The final condition is that all your Spiders will willingly agree to the terms I’ve just set in place. If not, I cannot let you-”

Chrollo held a hand up, Kurapika clenching his jaw.

“How dare you. Interrupt me again and I’ll-”

“My Spiders will agree to any conditions I agree to. You needn’t worry about them accepting your terms. If you’re willing to assist in capturing Hisoka so I can kill him and make him stay dead, then I’ll accept whatever terms you throw at me, and they will as well,”

“How are you so sure?”

“I’m their leader. They would walk backwards into Hell if I told them to, and do it without question or qualm,”

“I need you to actively accept, not some prose about how loyal your Troupe members are,”

“Yes. I agree to your terms,” Chrollo said. “However, is there any way that I can ensure my safety? Who’s to say you won’t turn around and kill me if this plan goes awry?”

“I will place a counter condition upon myself that prevents me from attacking you during the duration of your assistance in protecting Prince Woble and Queen Oito,” Kurapika said. “I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this because Queen Oito wants to keep her daughter safe, and I personally could care less if Hisoka lives or dies, but I don’t like the way he looks at Gon, so I’m willing to help you kill him,”

“Assisting me for the sake of your little friend? How touching,”

“You’re looking to kill him for revenge against your fallen men, aren’t you?”

“Yes…Wait, no…it’s not just that…”

“You’re either a horrible liar or stupider than I thought,”

“It’s my pride,”

“Sure. Are you ready to accept the sword or not?”

“Stab away,”

He had forgotten how painful it was, the moment the chain shot out and placed a dagger making his mind immediately flash to that horrible night in Yorknew. It tightened his chest, made the air in his lungs freeze and his blood run cold as soon as the dagger pierced through. His heart seized for a moment before the dagger settled in, his heartbeat returning to normal as quickly as it had paused.

If it meant giving up some of his own autonomy to grant him his revenge, he was able to accept it.

He would do anything to protect his Spiders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The flashback at the beginning was originally going to be it's own work, since I noticed no one (to my knowledge) has written a fic about Chrollo coming back to the Troupe after his exorcism.  
> Kalluto is a sweet little paper child who needs some good care, so he's in Leorio's protection now!  
> Chrollo and Kurapika are working together, too! I really enjoy writing their back and forth banter, since I feel Kurapika would be a mix of "I don't want to speak to you I hate you so much" and "I'm going to be as mean as possible because I hate you" 
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading this! Feel free to comment, they help give me inspiration to keep writing!  
> Thank you so much for reading, as always! <3


	8. A Moment to Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurapika takes a well-earned break.

Kurapika was ready to scream and they hadn’t been working together for more than thirty minutes yet.

Oito was ecstatic that Chrollo had told her that he would take her up on her offer to remain on the tier under the guise of his cooperation to protect Prince Woble, but now that he was suddenly surrounded by those who deemed him the enemy and vice versa, he regretted even accepting Chrollo’s offer.

“Your Majesty, your other guests have arrived,” Shimano announced, pulling Kurapika from stewing in his thoughts.

Of course, Kurapika inwardly groaned.

Of course the rest of the Troupe would show up.

“What the hell’s all of this, Chrollo?!” Nobunaga shouldered his way past a guard, eyes darting back and forth between Kurapika and Chrollo. “Why is the chain-”

Chrollo shot him a look that silenced him immediately, Machi nearly colliding into Nobunaga’s back.

“Watch where you’re going,” she hissed. “Chrollo, you better have a decent explanation for all of this,”

“I’ll explain once everyone is here,” he said. “Where’s Franklin and Bonolenov?”

“They’re on their way,” Nobunaga grumbled. “Last I heard, they were going to look for Kalluto,” 

“I see,”

While Oito looked around at the new people suddenly in her chambers, eyes wide as she tried piecing together what possible connection they all may have together, she hardly noticed Kurapika come over to her.

“Kurapika, thank you,” she said once she noticed him at her side. “I never thought I would see my little brother again, but here he is, in the flesh. I’m so happy, and you’re to thank for that,”

Kurapika clenched his teeth. He couldn’t tell her the truth, not if he wanted to.

She just seemed so happy to be reunited with a family member. It brought a pang of guilt to his chest that if he told her the truth of Chrollo’s actions it would pain her. As badly as he wanted to drag the members responsible for the Kurta massacre to Hell with his chains, to act as the judge of law and damn their souls for the pain they’ve caused him, he just couldn’t find himself able to open his mouth and say the condemning words.

Perhaps it was the way Oito looked at Chrollo with such a fondness that only family possessed, how he missed his own family dearly and he remembered how his aunts and uncles looked at him with such welcoming and loving eyes. Men such as Chrollo did not deserve something like that, did not deserve to get to understand the warmth of familial love, but Kurapika, as much as he wanted to, could not find it within himself to tear Oito’s dream from her.

“Your Highness, may I step out for a moment?” he asked. “I’ll be back shortly,”

“Of course,” she gave him a warm smile. “If you ever need a break, you don’t need to ask. You’ve worked so hard, lately. I’m so grateful, so take as much time as you need,”

“Thank you,” he gave a curt bow before turning on his heel, feeling the eyes of the Spiders fixed on his back as the wooden doors shut behind him.

Chrollo didn’t have to wait too long before Bonolenov and Franklin made their way to the Tier, escorted by Bill. The silence in the room had felt too awkward, too heavy between him and the queen, unsure of what to say while making idle chit chat. While Feitan, Phinks and Shizuku had been present during the meeting, the others were still in the dark as the why and how they somehow got clearance from one of the Kakin queens to be allowed in the tier specifically for the royal family.

He looked between the Troupe and the queen, her daughter bundled in her arms as she yawned.

“May I please speak to my friends in private, Your Highness?”

“Of course. I’ll be in my bedchambers,” Oito said, shifting Woble in her arms. “It’s actually her naptime, so I’ll be out within the hour. Please let me or Shimano know if there’s anything you need,”

“That’s plenty of time. Thank you,”

Oito bowed politely as she turned to leave, fighting the urge to yawn herself. It had been an emotionally draining morning, and now, early afternoon, she felt drained of energy. Maybe she would take a short nap with Woble and then spend some time learning more about the man she believed to be her brother. She sensed he was hesitant to speak to her, as if he didn’t want to grant her the opportunity to get closer to him. She also believed that he might be hiding something from her, his body language and flitting way of speaking indicating that he was waiting like a snake in the grass for the proper moment to strike.

She hoped, if he would let her, that she could learn what kind of man he truly was.

As soon as the doors to Oito’s bedchambers shut, Shimano following her as Bill vacated the room to grant them privacy, Chrollo let out a small sigh of relief.

“Good. You’re all here,” he said. “We’ll fill Kalluto and Illumi in once we see them, but I want to get this started,”

“What is all this?” Nobunaga asked. “You have a lot of explaining to do,”

“The eighth queen of Kakin apparently thinks I’m her long lost brother,” Chrollo began. “I doubt it, but she seems dead set on believing such.”

“But you don’t have any family,” Machi said. “We all don’t,”

“Well, we all came from someone,” Franklin said. “It’s reasonable to think that there is a possibility,”

“Regardless, she requested a private audience with me this morning, and I think we should accede to any requests or demands she and the chain user give us for the time being,”

“Are you serious? Why the hell should we listen to anything the chain bastard tells us?” Nobunaga argued. “Did you hit your head this morning?”

“Nobunaga, shut it,” Machi hissed, elbowing him in the side. “Don’t be rude!”

“He’s not wrong, though,” Bonolenov interjected. “We did suffer two losses because of the chain user,”

“Can you shut up and let him finish?” Phinks asked. “He’s trying to explain and you being an ass isn’t helping, Nobunaga,”

“Stop talking,” Feitan rolled his eyes. “All of you shut up!”

“Can we stop fighting? The boss has something important to say,” Shizuku said. “At least, I think he does,”

“Everyone,”

The Troupe silenced at Chrollo’s calm tone as he waited for them to stop, standing at the head of the group gathered around the ornate table.

“She met with Hisoka. He stole these from me after our fight,” Chrollo set the pictures down carefully, watching Machi, Nobunaga, and Franklin’s eyes widen in recognition. Most of the pictures had been taken previous to Bonolenov’s recruitment, but he acknowledged that these were important to not just Chrollo, but the founding members of the Troupe, images cataloging their early years together. “He met with her under the guise of a journalist and gave her information about me. Nothing in depth, simple knowledge, but she used the chain user to track me down and brought me up here to tell me her tragic story of losing her brother when he was young and how she thinks I’m that lost sibling,”

“Well, do you believe her?” Franklin asked.

“Not in the slightest,”

“You two do look a lot alike,” Machi mused. “Does she know…?”

The silent question hung in the air for a moment as Chrollo pondered the answer. He was uncertain if she knew of who he truly was, the horrible deeds he had done. He was a terrible person, he would admit it, yet she sought him out and brought him up to her private chambers and even allowed him near her infant child that she was overly protective about. Kurapika seemed like he was biting his tongue for fear of lashing out, so he assumed Kurapika was withholding that information from her.

But what would the chain user gain from hiding that from her? To that question, Chrollo did not know the answer.

“I don’t believe so. She seems to think I’m a part of a group of adventurers, that being you all, since she didn’t refer to us by our name,”

“Can’t you check by, like, DNA or something?” Phinks asked. “Just so you can prove that she’s wrong and we can get back to looking for Hisoka?”

“We could, but no,”

“What do you mean, ‘no’?” Nobunaga asked.

“I made a deal with the chain user,”

Upon revealing that, he frowned at the immediate protest from his Spiders, their complaints a cacophony.

“This queen has met with Hisoka before, and he knows where she is. I allowed the chain user to place a sword of judgement in me once again upon an agreement that I can use my nen and stay in contact with you all, and he will assist in capturing Hisoka. If I can persuade her, she might call for another meeting with him, and we can make our move then,”

“What’s the catch?” Feitan asked, cutting to the point.

“We all have to protect the queen and her daughter for the duration of this trip,”

“I don’t wanna babysit,” Shizuku frowned. “Why do we have to protect them?”

“There’s a contest of succession happening on this boat between the Kakin princes, and since the fourteenth prince is an infant, she is practically rendered helpless, and the queen is only a novice nen user and is still learning,” Chrollo explained. “She’s a slow learner from what I can tell, but she does have potential. However, she can’t utilize her nen to protect her daughter, and the bodyguards the chain user is training are no match for our combined strength. The plan will be that we split into two teams, one will stay up here and guard them and the other will go search for Hisoka on the ship. We’ll rotate each day, but I may have to stay here. In that case, if you do find him, I still get to kill him,”

“What about Kalluto and Illumi? Where do they fit into the plan?” Bonolenov asked.

“I’m worried about Kalluto,” Shizuku said. “He’s still just a kid,”

“He’s strong. He can hold his own,” Chrollo reassured. “I have no use for them in the plan, seeing as I have no idea where they are. In the event we do meet back up, Kalluto is to stay with me, and you all are in charge of keeping an eye on Illumi,”

“I still think you should check regardless,” Franklin spoke up. “Do you really think you’re this brother she’s been looking for?”

Chrollo wasn’t so sure if he was ready to answer that question himself. While he couldn’t go based off of appearances alone, he wanted to say no, but he did have to admit that their resemblance was uncanny.

“I don’t know,” he went with as his answer. “But for now, we’ll play by their rules, and once this is done, we’ll go about our business. Now, let’s establish groups,”

Kurapika made his way down to Tier Three in desperate need of a break. He was going to alert Mizai about the Troupe being aboard the ship, let him know he had the situation (relatively) under control, and maybe report to the Chairman.

His mind wandered to his fellow Zodiac as he passed the med bay, noticing a lack of Leorio.

Leorio was someone who, when he was having a terrible day, always cheered him up. He had been swimming in a pool of sadness and grief, regret eating away at his mind and heart as his collection of scarlet eyes grew with each body collector he had to force to relinquish the stolen property, but Leorio, Gon and Killua always brought him back from that dark space. He seldom responded, too busy between jobs and hunting, but getting bombarded by phone calls from Leorio that went to voicemail made him remember, deep down, that someone still cared to check in on him. Melody was great at doing so, his partner in this search, but she lacked something he just couldn’t put a finger on, something that made Leorio so special.

Late at night, when sorrow kept him up into the wee hours of the morning, Kurapika would play Leorio’s voicemails, ranging from screaming at him to pick up the phone to brief updates, calls to let him know he worried over his wellbeing and how the kids were doing.

Kurapika would never admit how it helped ease his heart and how Leorio prattling on about pre-med classes soothed him to sleep, how he fell asleep dreaming of simply being at his side. He would definitely not admit the warm feelings he had towards the man, how he did cherish the fond moments in between the darkness that had been Yorknew. He remembered how warm and gentle Leorio’s hands had been as he checked his forehead when he came down with a fever, how calming his voice was as he mumbled his chiding and demanded Kurapika take better care of himself.

Kurapika would definitely not describe his feelings towards Leorio as a _crush_. Someone like him didn’t have time for something like that, not when he had a goal to achieve that was near completion.

Upon inspecting the med bay and finding a lack of both the Chairman and Leorio, Kurapika began to make his way towards the office the Zodiacs had set up. Surely, he would run into either Mizai or Cheadle there.

There was a small cafeteria he needed to pass on the way, a certain voice catching his ear as he tried to ignore the growl of his stomach at the smell of food and hot coffee.

“Killua was such a brat, I’ll tell ya! I spent all that time haggling to get him a phone and he has the nerve to complain about how it looks! Then, it turns out, he has enough cash he could buy the whole company that makes the phones, and what does he spend it all on? Choco robots!”

The rant was followed by a soft giggle, Kurapika’s head whipping around to look for the source.

There, at the counter of the café, sat Leorio and Killua’s youngest brother, the two eating burgers with a heaping pile of fries in between them. Leorio was waving his hand about as he continued his story, a fry in two fingers as he pointed at the child. Kalluto, if Kurapika remembered correctly, covered his mouth as he let out a small laugh, more at Leorio’s antics than at the story.

“Leorio!” Kurapika found himself call out, mentally kicking himself for shouting.

Leorio stopped midsentence, turning around to meet Kurapika’s gaze.

“Kurapika!” he abandoned his seat, rushing toward Kurapika with arms outstretched.

He must have just gotten off a shift, still dressed in scrubs as he ran over. Kurapika didn’t have time to prepare for Leorio wrapping his arms underneath his, lifting him up into a crushing hug.

“I was so worried about you! You never answer your damn phone, and I haven’t seen you in two weeks! Two weeks, Kurapika! Fourteen days!”

“I’m shocked you know how to count to fourteen, Leorio,” Kurapika teased, feeling his back pop at the tight embrace. “Put me down!”

Leorio relinquished his hold on Kurapika, setting him back down onto the ground.

“Boy, do I have a ton to tell you, because you never answer your damn phone!” Leorio said. “C’mon, let’s catch up over food. I’ll buy,”

Kurapika glanced at his watch, noting the time. He had been gone for thirty minutes already, and he should be getting back to Prince Woble. Worry was starting to eat away at his consciousness as he suddenly remembered that he had left _the Phantom Troupe_ alone with his client and her daughter before remembering the exchange he had with Chrollo not even an hour prior.

All he could think about is Oito’s warm smile, the softness of her voice as she told him to take as long of a break as he needed.

He supposed he could take her advice and allow himself a small break. Besides, if they tried to harm her or Prince Woble, Chrollo would die, and he would have one less problem to deal with. He was fairly certain that he was telling the Troupe the conditions of their agreement anyway, so he could afford to stop for lunch.

His stomach also growled, a sharp pang in his side. It was a bit concerning that he couldn’t exactly remember when the last time he ate was, too busy in between checking on Oito and training his new students to remember to stop and eat or drink anything other than coffee.

It wouldn’t hurt to catch up with Leorio, but as he looked at the medical cross on the shoulder of his scrubs, he remembered the predicament he was in, knowing Leorio might have the answer.

“Are you eating alright up there? Getting enough sleep?” Leorio asked on their way back to his seat. “You don’t look so good,”

“I’m fine,”

“Hey, Leorio,” Kurapika said, following him to the counter and sitting at the stool to Leorio’s other side. “I have a question to ask you,”

“Yeah, what is it?”

Kurapika waved over the waiter, ordering for himself quickly as Leorio waited on his question, anticipating what he might possibly ask. Leorio would do anything for Kurapika with only minimal complaining. Yorknew had proved that. 

“Do you know how to do DNA testing, and do you have the equipment onboard to do so?” Kurapika finally asked once he got his cup of coffee, holding the warm ceramic in his hands. He almost didn’t notice how his hands were shaking.

“Of course I do!” Leorio said, taking another bite of his food. “We’re also doing research when we get to the Dark Continent. It’d be pretty pointless to drag a bunch of doctors and biologists onboard just to have them twiddle their thumbs while the Hunter Association go exploring, right?”

“So you can do it?”

“I took a class on DNA diagnostics, of course I can do it, sunshine,”

Kalluto covered his mouth as he held back a giggle at the scrunched up face Kurapika gave Leorio, a hint of displeasure at the nickname flashing in his eyes.

“Why do you have Killua’s brother?”

“It’s a long story, but to make things short, I’m kinda babysitting the kiddo because Mizai had him in a holding cell,”

“Why did Mizai have him in a holding cell?”

Leorio looked over to Kalluto, the preteen’s gaze bouncing between the two adults seated with him. His eyes gave Leorio a silent plea to not alert Kurapika of what he was doing on the ship, but Leorio couldn’t lie to Kurapika.

“I need you to not freak out,” Leorio warned.

“What is it? Spit it out, Leorio,”

Leorio let out a sigh, dreading having to break the news to Kurapika.

“The Phantom Troupe is on the Black Whale,” Leorio said. “Kalluto is a member, but he’s just a kid, and he reminded me of Killua, and-”

“I know,” Kurapika said matter-of-factly.

“-then I found out they’re all on the ship and-” Leorio sputtered. “Wait, what do you mean ‘you know’ already?”

Kurapika looked down into the dark black pool of coffee in his cup, already feeling a migraine coming on, his eyes already dully throbbing.

The food he ordered was placed before him, but he suddenly lost his appetite as he began to tentatively explain the situation, Leorio listening intently.

“Does the queen really think she’s related to that jerk?” Leorio shook his head in disbelief. “And what were you thinking? Why are you letting him help you?”

“I just want to do what’s best to protect the Queen and Prince Woble,” Kurapika felt a bit of the weight on his shoulders lifted after he let it out, poking at his food at Leorio’s insistence. “He accepted my terms, so if he tries to hurt them, he will die,”

“You remember what Melody said. He doesn’t care if he lives or dies,” Leorio sighed. “Let me guess, you want me to do a DNA test to see if they really are related,”

“If you don’t mind,”

“No, I’ll do it for you,” Leorio said. “But just for you. I’m definitely not doing this for him,”

Kurapika felt the corner of his lips upturn in a brief smile at Leorio’s words, and it felt good to have an ally who he could trust completely and could tell everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kurapika is just tired and definitely deserves a break from all the craziness going on, so I wanted to give him a little break to catch up with Leorio so he could feel a bit better. This chapter was originally not planned, but I was re-reading my things and what I have written for the upcoming plot of the story and realized he really needs to not be near the Troupe for a bit and I thought it would be best to let him catch his breath with Leorio. Also, Leorio will definitely make sure he eats/drinks plenty of water/gets some rest for once/charges his phone lol.
> 
> I hopefully should have the next chapter out soon, since I have the bulk of it already written.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to comment and let me know what you think! You can also reach me on[ my tumblr](https://oceans-grey.tumblr.com/) for any questions and I post all chapter updates on there as well!
> 
> Once again, thank you! :)


	9. Lying in Wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two med bay visits, one dealing with an angry medic, the other dealing with the most handsomest premed student who is really good with babies.

The gathered Phantom Troupe members were, to say the least, shocked at the newest revelation in their little excursion on the ship so far.

Phinks stood beside Machi, arms folded across his chest as he watched Chrollo across the room.

“What do you think?” he asked Machi, their gaze transfixed on their boss. “You usually have the best ideas,”

“I dunno about this one,” Machi shrugged her shoulders. “I think it’s smart that we’re taking her offer to stay up here, but I can’t really read how Chrollo feels about this,”

“Do you think they’re actually related?” Phinks asked.

Chrollo was looking through a thick book Oito had handed him, half-listening to her as she excited talked about something too soft for their ears to hear.

Machi cocked her head to the side, a finger on her chin as she mulled it over. Glancing between the two, the similarities were easy to see. She could see the same little quirk of the lip whenever Chrollo was about to smile in Oito. Their face shapes were similar, too, Chrollo’s just a tad sharper than Oito’s, but they both had the same slope of the nose, same rounded cheeks. Machi saw the resemblance the most in the eyes, the way Oito’s eyebrows knit with worry a look she had seen on Chrollo only a few times, the way her eyes lit up when he responded to a question the same way his lit up when he found something he wanted to take.

“I think…” she watched as Chrollo let out a soft chuckle at something she had said, but it looked faked. “I think, if she really believes he’s her brother, then she’s not lying. I don’t think she’d go through all this trouble if she wasn’t at least eighty percent certain he’s her lost little brother,”

“So that’s a yes?”

She shrugged.

“I’m not sure, but he doesn’t believe it, so I guess we should believe what he does,” she responded. “Who knows, maybe they are. Don’t ask me, I’m not a geneticist,”

“What are we talking about?” Nobunaga whispered, popping up in between them.

“Trying to figure out if they’re really related,” Phinks filled him in.

“Oh, they have to be,” Nobunaga nodded. “No doubt. They look too much alike,”

The others joined in their viewing, whispers amongst each other as if trying to decode a mystery.

“No, not so much alike,” Feitan shook his head. “Not by much. Boss looks different. Different face shape, not same nose,”

The Spiders stood around, contemplating the possibility as Chrollo continued telling Oito about a book he had read recently. He tried not to notice the way how when she smiled at him, her eyes looked so soft, full of recognition and fondness, the feeling uncomfortable.

“I dunno,” Shizuku said. “Wanna toss a coin for it?”

Chrollo was going stir crazy.

Oito was lovely company. She was intrigued by anything his said, listening to him ramble on about whatever subject came to mind with open ears and excitement written across her face. He told her stories of past heists, leaving out any criminal activities lest she deem them too dangerous to keep around, and a part of him had grown fond of her laughter. Something about it struck a chord within him, like a tune reappearing in the mind years after it had been first heard and subsequently forgotten. For a woman of impoverish upbringing, she was well-versed in political philosophy, something she had been taught upon courtship of the king and preparation to become a Kakin queen. She knew all the famous names, the main points, and though it was a basic understanding, Chrollo found her commentary interesting enough that he hung onto every word she said.

Humans are fascinating creatures.

This queen definitely was one of the rarer types, a kind heart and warm, motherly personality brought upon a hard childhood of having to raise younger siblings. It shone more when she was near her daughter, almost as if the infant was as much of a security blanket to her and she was to her daughter.

The bond between mother and child was something he had never truly witnessed, had only heard of in literature and portrayed in films, yet he had a front-row seat to Oito’s love for her daughter.

The closest semblance to family that he had was the Troupe, but they shared nothing alike the bond Oito held with her child.

However, he was growing bored of observing their interactions, the desire to go out and end Hisoka’s life with his own two hands. The murderous intent was tingling at his fingertips, the urge to go seeking for revenge too great that it nearly overcame him, nearly made him forget the promise he had made to the chain user.

Sadly, he could not leave this tier to go search for his target. He was bound, by metaphorical and physical chains, from leaving her unprotected, especially when Kurapika was not around.

The chain user, he fought the urge to scowl at the thought, was still missing. He had left on a ‘break’ nearly two hours ago and had still not returned.

Oito had been more than willing to provide him the information he had needed about Hisoka, how he apparently was aboard the ship under the guise of a journalist, and would be somewhere between Tiers Two and Three. With her believing he was her sibling, she could give him access to go to and from the Tiers with ease, and this hunt would be over quickly.

He could kill Hisoka, steal anything he wanted on the first Tier, and finally be at ease. The Spider would live on, and he would be untouchable, godlike in strength. No one could break apart what he had built once the only threat was disposed of.

“You look a bit tired,” Oito noted. “Would you like some tea? I could have Shimano make some,”

“I actually prefer coffee, if you don’t mind,”

“That’s fine. I could use a little pick-me-up, as well,” Oito shifted Woble on her hip. “Would your friends like some, too? If they need anything, let Shimano or Bill know, please,”

“I’m sure they’ll take you up on that offer,”

Looking over to the members gathered, he saw how impatiently they were awaiting orders. He had decided on the members of the two teams, but until Kurapika got back, those teams would not begin their search. Chrollo had insisted Shizuku, Phinks, Bonolenov and Franklin stay with him while Feitan, Nobunaga and Machi went out and searched, the latter being the first team to go out. Should Kalluto return, he would take Franklin’s place and be kept far from harm.

Chrollo wouldn’t admit aloud, but he was concerned for the wellbeing of their youngest. Kalluto was just a child, and while Chrollo had killed children younger than him, something didn’t settle right in his mind when he thought about sending Kalluto out to join the others in this fight. Maybe it was because he saw a bit of himself in the way Kalluto was so eager to please the team to prove his spot in the world, so desperately longing to have something of a semblance of family, to make sense of the world and prove his strength.

He was hesitant to let any of his Spiders out of his sight. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing another limb.

If he lost any more parts of himself, there wouldn’t be anything left, and he’d be just another empty puppet, no purpose, no drive, nothing. There would be no trying to comprehend himself, to contemplate the true meaning of his life or who he truly was.

For a man who could take anything he wanted, he was a bit shocked to find that what he truly wanted was to keep them close, keep them safe. Had he had things his way, he’d have the freedom to do so.

The doors closed with a heavy click as the lock set into place, signaling Kurapika’s return.

“Kurapika! You’ve come back just in time for afternoon coffee!” Oito greeted him.

“Thank you,” Kurapika gave a curt nod. “I’ve actually come with some news for you both,”

“We can talk over coffee,” Oito ushered them both towards the table. “Sit down and make yourselves comfortable. I just need to get Woble a bottle,”

Once they were all seated, Oito looked at Kurapika expectantly.

He let out a sigh, looking at the porcelain cup before him, reminding him of his earlier exchange with Leorio.

“One of the Zodiacs is a premed student at the University of Swardani,” he said, keeping his gaze transfixed on the cup before him so he wouldn’t have to see Chrollo staring at him. “He said he can perform a DNA test to make sure you both are related,”

“That’s splendid news!” Oito cheered. “When can he do it?”

“As soon as you can get down to Tier Three,” Kurapika answered. “I’ll escort you, your Highness, but we should go in separate groups in order to prevent the other Princes from getting suspicious,”

“That is true,” Oito mused.

“Couldn’t you just get your private doctor to do it?” Chrollo asked. “You do have one on this Tier, correct?”

“I do, yes,” Oito nodded. “However, my husband is unaware of the fact that I have a sibling who’s still alive, and he…”

She looked down at Woble, watching her hold her bottle and suck greedily at the warm milk inside. All she could see when she closed her eyes thinking back on her siblings were their bodies during their public executions, her husband lying to the public and claiming they were wanted for crimes against the royal family.

“He can’t know,” she stated, firm on her position. “Kurapika, we can go once Woble’s finished eating,”

“Okay, your Highness,”

Chrollo leaned back in his seat, cup of coffee untouched. If he was proven correct and he wasn’t her brother, there went his golden ticket to staying on the top Tier. However, he couldn’t place a finger on the emotion he felt when he thought about what would happen if she _was_ right. If he was proven wrong, which was highly unlikely, he didn’t know if he could hold his end of the bargain.

“Actually, I would like to go first,” Chrollo spoke up, startling Oito. “If that’s alright with you,”

“Of course!” she nodded. “That’s fine. You can go as soon as you’d like-”

He was out of his seat before she finished.

Leorio let out a sigh of relief. Kalluto was safe in his room for the time being as he finished a quick shift in the med bay, only an hour left before he could go back to trying to figure out what the hell he was going to do. He couldn’t just abandon his duties as a medic, but he really didn’t like the idea of letting Kalluto sit alone in his room all day.

He grimaced when he thought about letting him go back to the Troupe, leaving a sour taste in his mouth.

If he saw another Troupe member, he was definitely going to take all his stress and anger out on them.

“Paladiknight, you’re needed in exam room 4,” a nurse said. “Something about a test,”

“Got it,” Leorio reported, looking down at his schedule on his clipboard. He took a pencil and scribbled in the new patient, gaze fixed on the paper as he rounded the corner to the exam hall.

“Alright, what seems to be the problem?” he asked without looking up.

“Oh, it’s you,”

Leorio nearly dropped his pencil at the voice, gritting his teeth. He hadn’t heard that voice since Yorknew, anger spiking as he remembered that rainy night. 

“What the hell are you doing here?!” Leorio shouted, looking up from his clipboard.

“You know exactly why I’m here,” Chrollo sighed. “Are you always this rude to your patients?”

“I’m only nice to people who haven’t killed innocent people. If it were up to me, I’d kick your ass and throw you over the side of the ship,” Leorio said, snapping on a pair of sterile gloves. “If you so much as touch Kurapika, I’ll-”

“I have no business with the chain user, or you, for that matter,” Chrollo said, shifting uncomfortably in the chair. The small examination room made him feel a bit trapped with the angry emitter, and he knew the man would hold to his threat. He saw the video of him punching the legendary Ging Freecss. He didn’t want a repeat. “Can you please just do this so I can be on my way?”

“Shut up,” Leorio went over to the cupboard and grabbed a long swab and a sterile tube. “Open your mouth, and if you so much as say something dumb, I’m kicking your ass,”

Chrollo did as he directed, gaze focused on the corner of the room as the doctor swabbed the inside of his cheek.

“Alright, done,” Leorio placed the swab into the tube, pulling a marker from his scrubs and labelling it. “If you can scram, that would be great,”

“Wonderful hospitality you have, nurse Paladiknight,” Chrollo teased, heading to the door. “I’ll make sure to come back and see you if I have any heart issues, seeing as you ignored me the last time,”

Leorio remembered peering through the porthole door of the airship, seeing the pained look on his face when he was stabbed in the heart by Kurapika’s judgement chain. From what he could tell, the process was similar to putting the body into a brief cardiac arrest, and it was the only time Leorio was prepared to break his oath and neglect helping a person in need.

“I’m not afraid to beat your ass black and blue, Class A bounty or not,” Leorio said. “Get outta here, and don’t stress Kurapika out even more than he already is!”

“When will you know the results?”

“About a day. Now, get out of my sight!” Leorio snapped, all but pushing him out of the examination room.

Leorio watched as he left the med bay, fists clenched at his side.

He thought of Kurapika, sighing heavily through his nose.

He needed to keep calm for when the queen came.

“This Zodiac,” Oito began, following Kurapika down through the Third Tier. “He’s a friend of yours?”

“Something like that,” Kurapika said, feeling the corner of his mouth twitch upward. “He and I took the Hunter exam together, and we’ve worked together a few times,”

“You trust him?”

“With my life,”

“Good,” Oito felt her worry ebb. “Then I’ll trust him, as well,”

Entering the med bay, Oito wrinkled her nose at the heavy smell of antiseptic, glad to know that it was at least sterile.

“Kurapika!”

She directed her attention to a medic rounding the front desk, waving. He was tall, handsome, and had a kind smile as he made their way to them. She looked to her side to see Kurapika’s eyes soften, the way his mouth turned up into a small smile.

Oh. She knew that look. She would ask Kurapika about this medic later.

“Leorio, this is Queen Oito, Eighth Queen of Kakin,” Kurapika introduced them.

She was just as Kurapika had described her; petite and beautiful, her eyes kind as they shifted their focus to them. The child in her arms was squirming to see the new people in the room, craning her neck to look at them with wide eyes. Despite the pristine kimono, the adornments of gold and jewels in her hair and the lavish wedding ring on her finger, she looked like a humble woman, as if she were not made for royalty but had been crafted into such. Something about her made Leorio feel like he could trust her, and he wanted to help her in any way he could.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you!” Leorio smiled at her. “Kurapika told me all about you over lunch. Nothing bad, I promise,”

Oito laughed.

“I’ve heard nothing but good things about you from Kurapika,” she said. “Other than that one time you ran into a den of poisonous snakes during the Hunter exam,”

“Kurapika!” Leorio whined. “Don’t forget who came in after me!”

“I know, Leorio,” Kurapika shook his head. “She simply asked how we met, so I told her,”

“I’ll deal with you, later. Well, who’s this little cutie?” Leorio asked in a higher-pitched voice, crouching down to smile at Woble. “Are you here for a checkup, too?”

“She’s the Fourteenth Prince, Woble,” Kurapika said.

Woble babbled, letting out a happy shriek.

“She actually is in need of one,” Oito said.

“How old is she?”

“She just turned eleven months. She’ll be a year old next month on the fourteenth,”

“I can give her a checkup after we do this swab,” Leorio said, waving them to follow as he led them into the exam room. “Just wait right here,”

He shut the door and went to the cupboard to grab a new swab and sterile tube.

“Forgive me if this feels awkward, but I just need you to open your mouth so I can get the inside of your cheek,”

Oito opened her mouth, tilting her head back a bit for Leorio to do the swab. Once he was done, he labeled and capped it, putting the sample on the counter next to Chrollo’s.

“It’s that easy?” Oito asked, a bit marveled.

“It’s really easy, but I won’t have the results until tomorrow,” Leorio said. “Now, has she had her shots before?”

He looked at her bewildered when he saw her shake her head.

“I wanted her to get them, but all of the Princes are not vaccinated,” Oito admitted. “I got all my vaccines once I left Meteor City,”

“Do you want her to be vaccinated?” Leorio asked, watching her nod. “Alright, we can do them for her. I can try to make it hurt as little as possible, but she might be fussy. Is that okay?”

“I trust your medical opinion, Doctor Paladiknight,”

“Oh, I’m not a doctor yet,” Leorio blushed. “I’m just in training, and-”

“You’re better than any doctor I’ve ever had,” Oito said. “Now, shall we?”

Kurapika felt his heart melt as he watched Leorio distract Woble from her shots, laughter filling the room instead of cries as he made silly faces at her. Oito gave him a knowing look, her eyes warm as she looked between the two.

“He’s good with kids,” she said softly to Kurapika, smiling widely. “He’s truly amazing, don’t you think?”

“He’s definitely something,” Kurapika said, unable to look away from Leorio playing with the baby.

After Woble’s checkup, he sent them on their way, excitement at the anticipation of the results distracting Oito from any prying eyes cast in her direction. Kurapika was distracted from how calm he felt after seeing Leorio, trying to shift his focus on getting the queen back up to the top Tier, to notice a hunter lurking in the shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! This past week was a bit crazy and I also picked up a new hobby so that kind of took over my time lol. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to comment and let me know what you think! You can also reach me on[ my tumblr](https://oceans-grey.tumblr.com/) for any questions and I post all chapter updates on there as well!
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading! I appreciate any feedback and I look forward to writing the next chapter!


	10. the Spider and the Beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chrollo encounters a new possible problem.

There was freedom in solitude.

Chrollo blended in well amongst the crowd as he began to make his way back down to his cabin in Tier Four. He needed a moment to himself after dealing with Leorio, a second of peace alone. Despite the spacious halls of Oito’s designated chambers on the first Tier, he needed complete silence to think.

Knowing the Troupe was up there gave him enough peace of mind to relax, turning the corner to the dormitory halls, key to his room in hand. 

As anticipated, upon entering, the room was upturned, a stray needle embedded into the mirror, cracking the glass. All the luggage he had left in the room had been non-essential, clothes strewn about, the few books he had packed tossed across the room. It seemed that Illumi must have gone through his things, he assumed as he picked up his clothes, since if Hisoka had done so, he would have shredded through everything.

With a patience he didn’t realize he had, he packed his things back up and left the room, tossing the key atop the emptied dresser, stepping over the broken glass and tossed furniture.

He would get his revenge in due time. For now, he had to worry about the results of the test, hoping that once things were cleared and he wasn’t the queen’s brother, Kurapika could remove the chain on his heart and he could resume his hunt, and once that was finished, the Troupe could steal whatever they wished. 

A very small part of Chrollo was genuinely saddened by the thought of losing Oito’s company. She possessed a kindness he hadn’t seen in a long time, naïve but sincere. Her concern over his wellbeing was reminiscent of Pakunoda, and it made him miss her more.

No matter what happened, though, he had to put the Spiders before anything. He had to find Hisoka and he needed to kill him to secure the safety of the Spiders. He wouldn’t let any possible questioning of familial ties ruin that.

Glancing down at his cellphone, he noticed he had missed the scheduled time dinner was served, too angry to truly feel hungry for anything but vengeance. Phinks had tried to call him twenty-seven times, leaving long voicemails that probably were a mixture of genuine concern and panicked yelling. He wouldn’t be surprised if Nobunaga was shouting in the background of said voicemails.

Clicking to listen to one of the longer ones, he pressed his phone to his ear.

 _“Boss, where the hell are you? You’ve been gone for four hours!”_ Chrollo pulled the phone away from his ear as Phinks shouted. _“We’re all worried, and I’m going to send Machi to go look for you. Shizuku, what are you-”_

 _“Chrollo!”_ there was Nobunaga. _“You better get back here or I’m-”_

There were two garbled smacks, followed by the sound of the phone dropping.

 _“Hey, Boss,”_ Shizuku, he assumed, had hit them both with Blinky. _“When are you coming back? You didn’t get kidnapped again, did you? Please answer your phone,”_

The line went dead, the voicemail ending and prompting him to delete or save it. He let out a chuckle, saving it.

Since Yorknew, they were much more concerned about him despite his constant reiteration of the rules. It felt nice, to know they cared so deeply for him, but at the same time, it contradicted his rule that he was not important to the whole, that he was easily replaceable.

He hit the button to call them back.

_Ring, ring, ring-_

He hung up, stopping in his tracks.

He was about three halls away from getting to the door leading to Oito’s. The prince stopping him stood with his guard, dressed down in practical workout clothes, hand propped on his hip.

“Well, look what we have here, Theta,”

Chrollo knew that man. He had seen him all over the news before embarking on this trip. Fourth Prince Tserriednich was viewed as one of the possible successors of this war, the man Kurapika was most concerned about. There was something sinister about him, despite his relaxed posture, and Chrollo felt as if he were a spider caught in the web.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before,” Tserriednich said, staring down at him with quisitive eyes. “Are you sure you’re not lost?”

“I’m quite certain,” Chrollo said. “If you don’t mind, I’m trying to return to my employer,”

“And which prince would that be?”

“That’s none of your concern nor your business, Prince Tserriednich,”

“You know who I am,” he mused. “Interesting,”

“Is there anything else?”

“Yes, and I know who you are, Chrollo Lucilfer,”

Chrollo lowered his arm, clenching his phone in his fist at his side. 

“You’re a nen user,” Tserriednich smiled. “I can sense it, now,”

“That I am, yes,” Chrollo could sense from just his aura alone that Tserriednich had opened his nodes and had begun nen training.

The prince’s aura was almost as malicious as Hisoka’s, calmer, more stable.

He could become a problem. 

“Come. Chat with me a moment in my chambers,” Tserriednich said. “I’ve always wanted to chat with a Floor Master,”

There was no way he could back out now. If he left, the prince might follow him to Oito’s chambers, and that could put her and her daughter in danger.

Kurapika would also get angry, and he’d rather not get punched in the face. Fists alone didn’t hurt, but when there were chains attached to said fist and those eyes flashed scarlet, his punches hit hard.

“Lead the way, Prince Tserriednich,”

Tserriednich’s personal chambers were nothing to scoff at, Chrollo noted as the prince led him into a private study.

“Come, sit. I’ll pour you a drink,” Tserriednich waved. “Theta can get your coat,”

“I’d prefer it on, if you don’t mind,” Chrollo tensed, feeling Tserriednich’s guard at his back. She would be easier to subdue if she tried to attack him, but Tserriednich, on the other hand…

Chrollo had heard in whispered rumors between some of Oito’s handmaidens about the Fourth Prince. Oito spoke relatively kindly about her stepchildren, but Tserriednich was the only exception. There had been fear in her eyes when she had talked to him, and now, staring at the man, he understood.

He and Tserriednich were one in the same. They were cut from the same cloth, so to speak.

Monsters disguised as men. 

The proof of that was the severed Kurtan head residing in formaldehyde residing on the shelf above where Tserriednich sat, pairs of scarlet eyes framing it as a macabre display of wealth.

Chrollo wondered, as he observed Tserriednich, if the prince knew the man responsible for his little trophies was right before him.

He wondered if Tserriednich knew it was Nobunaga who sliced the head clean off the shoulders of a Kurtan boy with his katana. He wondered if Tserriednich knew that Feitan had been the one to pull the majority of the eyes, fond of torture as he plucked them from their sockets, men and women screaming in agony as Machi tied them down with thread to prevent them from fighting back. Franklin had been the one to store them, since Uvogin might squish them with his fingers and Phinks and Pakunoda were too squeamish to touch the eyeballs.

Chrollo closed his eyes for a moment, brought back to the memory of placing the note as they left the hidden clan’s portion of the Lusko province ablaze. He had written it himself, unknowingly placing their mark on the world and becoming the most infamous group of their time.

He had done just as the elders had instructed them to do.

Now, eight years later, he still felt the same as he did then.

Nothing.

“Cigar?”

“If you have one, I’d prefer a cigarette. I’m not a fan of cigars,”

Tserriednich pulled a golden, slim, engraved case from his desk, flicking it open and pulling a long cigarette from it. Chrollo took it wordlessly, holding it between two fingers as he watched Tserriednich clip his cigar.

“Can I interest you in a drink, too?” Tserriednich offered as he lit Chrollo’s cigarette, eyes focused on the way it laid against his lips. “Scotch?”

“Wine, red,”

“I’ll get Theta to get you some,” Tserriednich smiled, turning to grab the decanter of scotch on his desk. Chrollo leaned back on the chaise, watching as the prince poured himself a drink, taking a drag from the cigarette, feeling the way the smoke burned his lungs in a pleasant way. It had been a while since he had caved and smoked, the nasty habit something he rarely indulged in, but with the stressful day he was having, he was willing to endure this odd meeting.

As he promised, Theta came in, red wine in hand as she handed him the generously poured glass. He observed the sore on her cheek, curious as to what had caused such an abrasion, taking the glass from her and watching the way she curtly left.

“I’m not going to lie to you, since I can’t stand liars,” Tserriednich said. “You’ve piqued my interest. Not many can retort in such a rude manner to a Kakin prince, yet you did it without hesitation,”

“I don’t take kindly to people interfering with my plans,” the wine tasted as expensive as it looked, notes of cherry and currant sitting on his palate. “I’m a busy man,”

“Yet you have time to sit for wine,”

“I’d be a stupid man to turn down an offer of drinks with a prince,”

“What are you doing on this deck?”

“And why is that of interest to you?” Chrollo shrugged, flicking the end of his cigarette, watching the ash collect into the ashtray at the edge of Tserriednich’s desk.

“I know you’re a nen user, and a powerful one at that,”

“Very perceptive,”

Tserriednich let out a chuckle, taking a drag from his cigar before he set his glass down.

“The first thing you did when you came into this room was look at the scarlet eyes. They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

“I suppose so. Body trophies aren’t my fancy,” Chrollo’s gaze darted up to the other preserved pieces of flesh, taking a deeper sip of wine.

“And what is?” Tserriednich leaned forward, eyes inquisitive.

“I’m a fan of books. Ancient tomes, manuscripts, dialogues, that sort of thing,”

“I’d consider myself a bit of a philosopher,” Tserriednich admitted. “Have you read Kant?”

“I can’t stand Kant,” Chrollo exhaled, watching the smoke curl in furls before dissipating into the air. “I’ve read as much as a scholar, I suppose,”

“I’m quite the fan of Hegel, as well,”

“I prefer the classic schools of philosophy. Plato, Diogenes, Aristotle, Aurelius, Boethius,” Chrollo looked at the glass of wine in his hand.

"Ah, Diogenes, the cynic,"

"He wasn't entirely wrong when he said, 'in a rich man's house there is no place to spit but his face,' Prince Tserriednich," Chrollo quoted. 

The quote, meant as a jab at the disgusting amount of wealth the prince flaunted just within his private study, had him laughing. 

“You’re much more interesting company than any woman I’ve had,” Tserriednich mused. “Most women can barely name a state, let alone a string of philosophers. Maybe I should stop spending time with daft women and more time with men like you,”

“I read a lot,” Chrollo grimaced at the insult at women. All he could think of was that if Machi were here, she would be trying to jump over the large mahogany desk to strangle Tserriednich, and Chrollo would sit back and let her. "I like to learn as much as I can,"

“I can tell,” Tserriednich leaned back in his chair. “Now, do you care to tell me what you’re doing here? I know you’re not here for a leisure trip. You should still be at Heaven’s Arena,”

“You saw my fight,” Chrollo remembered what Oito had revealed to him, how she had found him through a livestream feed that only Kakin royalty had access to.

 _"My husband and some of my stepchildren are big fans of the Floor Master fights,"_ she had said.

 _So Tserriednich must be one of them,_ he thought.

“I did,” Tserriednich got excited, a wide smile on his face as he smoked. “It was one of the most intense fights I've ever witnessed. Those are some interesting abilities you have. I’d love to see them,”

He didn't know about Bandit's Secret, since he had just unlocked his nen, and therefore had not been able to see what was going on during the fight. That was a relief, since Chrollo would have the upper hand should this meeting come to blows.

“I don’t show them to just anybody,”

“Yet you revealed them to your opponent and to the whole spectating arena,”

“My opponent knew what he was going up against. He was the fool for accepting the terms," Chrollo sighed. "Perhaps some other time, if you're truly interested,”

“Is that an invitation to see you again?”

“Possibly, if you let me go on my way without following me,” Chrollo snuffed out his cigarette, setting the emptied glass of wine beside the decorative ashtray.

“Of course. You can be on your way, and Theta will just bring you to the door. I'll figure out how to track you down,"

As Tserriednich smiled at him, Chrollo felt a chill in the air.

Something appeared beside the seated prince, Chrollo’s breath hitching his chest for a brief moment. It took quite a lot to scare him, but he couldn’t help but feel his blood run cold at the eldritch looking beast staring at him with wide eyes, head cocked to the side at an inhumane angle, jaw unhinging slowly. It towered above them, aura intense.

It was a parasitic type, he could tell, but Tserriednich was looking right at him as if he was blissfully unaware of the monster in the room. Even Theta, whose face had been stoic the whole meeting, looked a bit afraid.

Once he saw the second head in the mouth of the beast, he knew he had to get out of the room immediately.

“Thank you for your hospitality, Prince Tserriednich,” Chrollo picked himself up off the chaise.

“Thank you for the company,” Tserriednich said, waving him off as he took the last drag of his cigar. “I’d love to have another chat with you soon, Chrollo Lucilfer. I’ll send Theta to find you when I want to see you again,”

Theta escorted him out of Tserriednich’s chambers quickly, leaving him alone in the hall.

Once he was entirely alone, he gasped, grasping his chest from where it beat as if it would burst from his ribcage.

 _What was that thing behind Tserriednich?_ he wondered.

He walked with death daily. Nothing frightened him, but a beast like that was terrifying, the soulless stare of the beast's eyes burned into his memory.

Whatever that beast was, it has startled him to his core, and as reluctant as he was, he was going to have to tell Kurapika. Tserriednich, from what he could tell, was naturally gifted as a nen user, and he was learning at a pace much faster than Oito’s.

If he wanted to survive the conditions Kurapika set upon him and make it off this damned ship with Hisoka’s head as his own trophy, he would have to convince Bill to let him teach her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tserriednich scares me and his nen beast gives me Junji Ito vibes and I hate him and his dumb face and stupidly hard to spell name.
> 
> I think I said in a comment/end note for last chapter that this chapter would have the DNA results, but this idea popped into my head and I wanted to post this as an in-between. I should have the next chapter up shortly. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Feel free to comment and let me know what you think! You can also reach me on[ my tumblr](https://oceans-grey.tumblr.com/) for any questions and I post all chapter updates on there as well!


	11. Late Night Talks and Babysitting Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chrollo has a hard time sleeping on the new tier, Oito has a hard time sleeping from anticipation.  
> Kurapika has to babysit with the person he least wants to watch a baby with.
> 
> The results of the test.

“Boss!”

Chrollo felt all the pent up stress from his meeting with Tserriednich melt away as he was greeted by his Troupe, the tension rolling off his shoulders in waves as he let Phinks come over and chastise him for not keeping them updated on his whereabouts, checking him over for any injuries.

“-and I was real worried about you, too!” he caught the end of Nobunaga ranting. “Phinks and I were going to go tear this ship apart looking for you!”

“I’m perfectly capable of protecting myself,” Chrollo fought the urge to chuckle.

They worried so much, he realized as he took in their faces, feeling the corner of his mouth quirk up into a smirk.

“Good, you’re back!” Oito smiled, coming out of her private chambers with Bill and Kurapika flanking her. “We were just going to have dinner! I wanted to wait for you to come back before we all sat down to eat,”

The smile he felt grace his face at the warmth of her statement was genuine.

He supposed talking to her about nen training could wait.

While surveillance from the guards was a twenty-four-seven deal, that didn’t mean the occupants of her chambers had to keep rotation. Chrollo dismissed the Troupe to go rest shortly before midnight to the extra rooms Shimano had prepped ready for them, two to a room. Shizuku had been barely able to keep her eyes open when she had yawned and shuffled her way towards their rooms, Machi in tow. The last of the Troupe to resign to their new lodgings had been Feitan, forever a night owl like Chrollo, who had only gone off to bed on a direct order.

Chrollo, however, found that he couldn’t sleep. Whether it was the rocking of the boat on the ocean, the unfamiliarity of the new room he was in, insomnia, thoughts coursing through his mind or a combination of all of these, he had no idea, but his consciousness refused to let him slip into that sweet limbo of rest he craved.

Instead, he laid in the plush bed provided to him, arms splayed out on the bed as he stared up at the ceiling. The book he had been trying to read, one of the few he had recovered from his room, lay on the bedside table, half-read, the words blurring the later on into the night it grew.

Their chambers were eerily silent, the only sounds the soft pitter-patter of guards changing every couple hours and the occasional hushed chatter. He was sharing a room with Phinks, his friend laying on his stomach and snoozing away into his pillow, the deep, steady rhythm of his breathing and Chrollo’s own the only noises in the room.

It was still enough that he couldn’t sleep, and it wasn’t as if he could hum that damn song he couldn’t ever remember where he had first heard it in case his humming woke Phinks up.

Sighing in defeat, he swung his legs out of bed, letting his body carry him to the main room of their chambers. The halls were dark, lights out to allow its inhabitants the recluse of night. He may as well go for a brief walk around, familiarize himself with any possible exits, keep note of any places one could hide with ease-

“You can’t sleep, either?”

He nearly startled at the sudden voice, whipping his head in the direction of where it came from.

It was Oito, sitting on the couch in her pajamas with her legs folded underneath her, hair down and hanging loose past her shoulders in ebony waves that reminded him of the ocean at midnight. The lamp on the end table beside her gave the room a faint honeyed glow, enough that he hadn’t even noticed her there until she had spoken to him.

“No, I’m afraid not,” he rubbed his eye with a hand, feeling the soreness in the bags under his eyes, how tired he felt.

“Woble’s asleep, but I found that I just couldn’t follow,” Oito admitted, patting the cushion beside her. “Sit, please. I made some tea,”

Chrollo didn’t object, letting his tired feet shuffle over towards the couch and unceremoniously plopping down beside her. He mimicked her position, tucking his feet under him as she leaned over to the coffee table, a small teapot and two porcelain cups sitting on a tray. He watched her, eyes barely keeping track of her slowed movements as she poured the tea, handing him the first. The porcelain was hot in his hands, yet he cupped them around it, letting it burn pleasantly against his cool, numb fingers, the fragrant smell of herbs filling his senses.

“I’ve been having trouble sleeping ever since I was pregnant,” she admitted, pouring her own cup and taking it in her hands. “Woble was a kicker, and liked to begin kicking during the night when I tried to sleep rather than during the day, and since having her I just simply can’t get a solid night’s rest,”

“Carrying a child seems like a difficult endeavor,”

“It is, but it was worth it to see her beautiful face for the first time,” Oito smiled at the thought, remembering Woble’s scrunched up face as she flailed her arms and cried for the first time, the most beautiful sound Oito had ever heard. “This tea usually helps me fall back asleep, but I’m just too eager for tomorrow,”

Chrollo held the cup close to his lips, the tea too hot to sip at, but just to inhale the soothing smell. It smelled of jasmine and lavender, and from smell alone he knew it would be an exquisite taste. He wasn’t much of a tea person, but it seemed as if Oito had known exactly what he had needed without even knowing he had been having the same trouble as her, making just enough extra for him, and denying her was something he couldn’t bring himself to do.

“I’m nervous,” Oito admitted, looking down at her painted toes, the worry eating away at her heart as she curled tighter into herself. “I’m so scared that I’m wrong, but I know in my heart you’re him,”

Chrollo hummed, not too concerned with the outcome of results rather than the state of his ability to move between Tiers to continue his search.

“I know I’ve only known you, as in you as an adult and not the child of my past and in my memories, for a day now,” Oito began. “But I really feel at ease when I’m with you. I feel…complete, in a sense, the way you can only feel with family. When Woble was born, she filled the aching void in my heart that was caused by the deaths of our family, but when I found out you were still alive, and I saw you…”

She looked up from her tea, waiting for Chrollo to hold her gaze. She gave him a soft smile, feeling her shoulders relax.

“I just knew you were my little brother. I can’t really describe how it feels, but my mind and soul just knows,”

He wished he could tell her the same, to sweettalk his way into keeping this good deal he had going on so he could look for Hisoka with all the resources he could grasp at, but he found that he just couldn’t lie to her.

“You must think I’m insane,” she shook her head, taking a sip of her tea. “I know I would, too, if I were in your position,”

“I don’t think you’re insane,” Chrollo defended. “I just-”

“You don’t know,” she finished for him.

“Right,” he admitted.

“I truly think fate is working with me,” she let out a huff of laughter. “First, my gamble with Kurapika works out, and then I stumble across someone who knows where my long-lost baby brother could be, and then you happen to be on the same boat I am at just the right time. I wonder, when will that luck run out?”

She stared off at the wall, her smile fading. Concern knit its way into her brow, lips set in a contemplative frown. Chrollo suddenly remembered the Succession Contest, how she was probably wondering when her luck would run out and when she or her daughter would be the next to die.

“Enough depressing talk,” she shook herself out of her worrisome thoughts. “Why are you still awake?”

“I have bad bouts of insomnia,” Chrollo took a sip of the tea, hesitant. It tasted amazing, like a warm embrace in a cup, the warmth spreading through his chest as his shoulders relaxed. “Sleep is rather difficult for me a majority of the time. I usually don’t get more than a few hours a night,”

“I know that,” Oito gave him a comforting smile. “Woble used to wake up every other hour crying up until she was about six months old. I barely got any sleep, and no matter how many nursemaids offered to take her, I told them I’d rather suffer than have them take Woble for the night. I refuse to let any nanny raise my own child,”

“Why not accept the help you have?” he asked out of curiosity.

“Just because I’m a queen and have all the nannies I could want at my disposal doesn’t mean I’m going to use them. I only let Shimano help because I trust her wholeheartedly. She was by my side through it all, so I feel as if I owe it to her to let her watch Woble in my absence. I carried Woble for nine months, and I was the one who birthed her. I want to watch her grow every step of the way. I don’t want to miss a single second of her life. Besides, I have plenty of experience taking care of a child. I helped raise you, even if it was only for a few years,”

There was a pregnant pause in the room as they sat and drank their tea. It wasn’t until Chrollo was staring at the leaves collected in the bottom of his cup that he felt the urge to ask her the question that had been gnawing at his mind for the past few hours, rather, had been bugging him ever since she revealed that he could be her brother earlier that day.

“Can you…” he found himself asking before he could silence himself. “Can you tell me more about it?”

Oito cocked her head to the side, brows knit together in confusion.

“About what?”

“About…my life, if I am your brother, before I was abandoned,” he forced himself to say. “About your family,”

Oito nodded, setting her cup down.

“Where do you want me to start?” she asked, and Chrollo couldn’t help but match the small smile she gave him.

“The beginning. I want to know everything,” he leaned into the cushions, watching as Oito made herself comfortable.

“Do you want me to tell you about the day you were born?” she asked. “I was still little, so I don’t remember it very well, but I remember how small you were. Mom was so tired from labor, and she just wanted to sleep, so I got to watch you for the first few hours after you were born with Dad, and…”

“Your Majesty?” Shimano called quietly, tiptoeing her way out of Oito’s bedchambers. The queen was nowhere to be found, Woble still fast asleep in her crib. “Your Majesty, it’s five-o’clock. I’m here to wake you like you asked me to,”

Shimano shook her head, unable to see where her queen may be. In the main room, she squinted in the dark, noticing the top of two heads on the couch, both dark haired. The lamp light was still on, set low to keep the room fairly dark, as she crept closer.

Oito sat curled up on her end of the couch, face resting against the back of the couch cushion, sleeping peacefully. The man she believed was her brother, Chrollo, if Shimano remembered correctly, sat beside her, arm propping up his head as he slept leaning onto it, snoring softly. They both looked tired, as if they had been up all night. If Shimano remembered, he had gone to bed wearing a cardigan, said cardigan thrown over Oito’s curled up form like a makeshift blanket, one of her hands holding the soft knit material close.

Shimano smiled, silently collecting the abandoned tea set.

The queen deserved a bit more rest, she decided.

After taking care of the leftover dishes, Shimano returned with a spare blanket from Oito’s room, gently placing it over to the two as they slept on opposite sides of the couch. She watched as the queen’s brother shifted, curling up in a similar position as Oito, pulling the blanket up over himself as he nestled into its warmth.

They even slept similarly, Shimano covered her mouth to prevent herself from giggling. If Oito had any doubt that this man was her brother, Shimano definitely did not have any. Between the similarities in their looks, and now, in their posture, she knew they had to be blood.

Chrollo woke up on the couch alone, startling awake as he nearly slipped off the couch, suddenly aware of Phinks standing over him.

“’morning, Boss,” he yawned. “You fell asleep out here?”

“Yeah,”

The last he remembered was trying to keep his eyes open as she talked about her siblings, little stories about how she taught Chrollo how to read and he could read exceptionally well as a toddler. He remembered how she yawned through half the stories, eyes drooping as she fought to stay awake to recite his favorite book to him, a book about a busy spider spinning her web, how he liked to look at spiders making webs after that story. He vaguely remembered her dozing off, and how he had felt too warm, shrugging off his sweater and laying it over her to keep her warm before settling onto his side, leaning on his hand as he closed his eyes to rest them.

He felt so tired, so stiff from sleeping sitting up as he rubbed his eyes with both hands.

“Boss, you alright?” Phinks asked, and he sighed.

“I’m fine,” he admitted. “Go gather everyone for me, please,”

“Yeah,”

It didn’t take long for Phinks to wrangle in the rest of the Troupe, pulling them from their rooms still dressed in pajamas, as they waited for their orders.

“I need you all to go search for Hisoka as soon as possible. Get a feel of this Tier and the Second, and report back here by noon,” Chrollo ordered. “I’m staying here,”

For once since boarding this ship, he isn’t greeted with no objections, no qualms. He needed to stay up on the top tier for when the results of the test came in, and it would be easier to take in the outcome with seven other opinions interjecting and intruding his thoughts.

He watched as they disbanded with a chorus of “yes, Boss,”, heading off in different directions to prepare for their ventures throughout the ship. Feitan, Phinks, and Nobunaga were meeting with other members of the Cha-R today for to learn of any possible leads. Franklin was taking Shizuku and Bonolenov with him to go explore the next deck for any place Hisoka could be hiding or could make an easy escape.

Everyone had begun to prepare to leave, except for one.

“Please, be safe,” Machi looked up to him. “I’m not too keen on leaving you alone up here with the chain user,”

“I’ll be fine,” Chrollo reassured her, reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder. “You have nothing to worry about,”

“I hope you’re right,” she sighed. “Alright. See you later, Chrollo,”

She turned, dislodging his hand from her shoulder. As he watched her wave him goodbye before slipping out the main door, he wondered when she dropped calling him by his title and simply by his name.

He actually was beginning to notice that most of the Troupe was beginning to do the same. He knew they still viewed him as the leader, but it felt nice to be treated as their equal.

All parts of the spider were equally important, despite natural law dictating that the legs follow the head.

They viewed him as their equal, as their friend.

They had been alone for not even an hour and Kurapika was ready to vault over the coffee table and strangle Chrollo with his chains, nen contract be damned.

The tension was thick in the air as the two sat on opposite seats, Oito and Bill crouched on the floor playing with Woble. 

Shimano entered the room, drawing their attention from the prince to her. 

“Your Majesty, your husband has requested your presence in his chambers,” Shimano said.

“Oh, dear,” Oito sighed, getting up from where she was kneeling on the floor. “He’s probably wondering what’s been going on here. Sevanti said he was checking up on us all,”

She looked between Chrollo and Kurapika, the tension between them thick enough to slice through with a dull knife.

“Can I leave Woble in your care while I meet with my husband?” she asked, her eyes meeting Chrollo’s.

Kurapika didn’t say anything, instead looking to Chrollo for his answer.

“She’s already been fed and will probably take a nap within the hour, but I anticipate being back by then,” Oito came to him, taking his hands in hers. “I trust you can watch her with Kurapika, right?”

“I hate you and this situation,” Kurapika snapped. “I’m perfectly capable of watching the Prince by myself,”

“I should be out with my Spiders looking for Hisoka instead of playing babysitter,” Chrollo sighed. He felt rather useless as the leader just sitting around on the floor with the baby, his fingers itching to check his phone for any updates instead of setting up blocks.

“I don’t want to work with you, so keep any communication with me to a minimum,” Kurapika said, sliding a colored block closer to Woble. “I won’t hesitate to shoot you if you threaten me or the safety of the queen and Prince Woble, regardless of our nen agreement,”

“I didn’t realize you had upgraded from your chains to a gun,” Chrollo said, eyes focused on Woble.

“I didn’t realize you were still insufferable to be around. Just keep your mouth shut, and once this succession contest is done, I hopefully will never see you ever again,”

Woble let out a string of babbles, knocking over the pile of blocks she had built. Chrollo leaned over and rebuilt the pile, gaze darting between the blocks and the child’s wide-eyed expression. Once he moved his hands, Woble once again knocked down the pile, laughing.

Kurapika let out a huff, crossing his arms over his chest.

“What?”

“I just didn’t expect you to be good with children, seeing as you’ve killed so many,”

“I only killed a few,”

“It’s great that you can say that without any hesitation nor regret,” Kurapika mumbled under his breath. “I can’t believe Queen Oito is allowing you near Prince Woble,”

“Well, she seems convinced I’m her lost brother, and if she’s right, then this is my niece, and I suppose I have a right to spend time with my family,”

“I hope you’re not, so I can toss you overboard,”

“You can do so after I find and kill Hisoka,” Chrollo said, watching as Woble placed her hands on his knee and pushed herself up. “What is it?”

Woble babbled at him, a string of unintelligible sounds before crawling onto him. From where he was seated on the floor, she was close enough that she could reach for his face, balancing herself enough to smack her hands onto his cheeks.

“Mamamamama,” Woble repeated, increasing the volume of her voice. “Mamamama!”

“Does she want her mother?” Chrollo guessed, wincing once Woble smacked his face again.

“She might,” Kurapika looked down at his phone. “But I’m not going to call for her. She should be back shortly,”

Woble reached out for his earring, Chrollo gently moving her hand and picking her up to set her onto the floor beside him. Woble kept repeating “mama” over and over again, busying herself with the toy piano Bill had brought in earlier before leaving to escort Oito, clinking the keys and producing a tinny little tune.

“She’s quite an intelligent baby,” Chrollo noticed, watching Woble as she observed the different colored keys and smacked a flat hand down on some of them.

“Of course she is. She’s a prince, and nearly a year old,” Kurapika scoffed.

“She’s the first baby I’ve ever been around,” he admitted, watching Woble grow bored with the toys. She rubbed at her face, a frown appearing as she toddled over to him.

“Is she alright?” Chrollo asked, eyebrow raised. He wasn’t familiar with babies at all, and her sudden change in mood was concerning.

Her babbles turned into whimpers, the youngest prince pouting. Kurapika’s eyes widened with worry as Woble began to cry, big fat tears rolling down her cheeks as she shrieked at the top of her lungs.

“Mama,” she sobbed. “M-mama,”

“What’s wrong with her?” Chrollo asked as Woble took in another deep breath. He winced at another cry, holding Woble at an arm’s distance. “Should we go get Oito?”

“No, she’s in a meeting. Woble probably just noticed that she’s gone,” Kurapika had to shout over the prince’s increased cries.

“How do you make her stop?” he held Woble as far away from him as she could, watching her thrash in his hold. She was so small, he felt so uncomfortable holding her.

“She’s been fed and changed, maybe she’s just tired,” Kurapika shrugged. “Don’t hold her like that! She’s a prince and will not be handled like a toy!”

Chrollo frowned, watching Woble squirm in his arms, no sign of her cries seeming to stop.

“What does Oito usually do?”

“She usually just rocks her and hums a song, but I don’t know it,” Kurapika folded his arms. “Prince Woble doesn’t like any Kurtan lullabies,”

Chrollo thought back on all the books on music he had read, countless songs he had heard, but nothing seemed to come to mind that would be soothing for a baby.

Well, there was one, but it wasn’t a guarantee.

As best as he could with a wiggling baby, he held Woble close, trying to mimic the way he had seen Oito hold her by letting her head rest on his shoulder. She pressed her mouth against his coat, muffling her cries and no doubt rubbing her tears onto the leather. Gently, he bounced her, unsure of how fast or forceful he could go. She was so small, the smallest thing he had ever really held that was alive being the kitten Pakunoda once saved a few years back, and he felt so unsure for the first time in ages.

He began humming the song that wormed its way into his mind on sleepless nights, the song that helped soothe him to sleep when his eyes burned from staring at page upon page and the moon shone high in the sky. It was a gamble, he knew, but it was the only thing he could think of.

Kurapika watched, wide eyed, as Chrollo actually managed to calm Woble down, her cries almost instantly silencing upon hearing the tune. Her sobs turned into little whimpers, one of her hands clinging to the soft fur of his collar as the other rubbed at her eyes. Woble let out a yawn, pressing her cheek against Chrollo’s shoulder.

Chrollo, wondering what might happen and wanting to experiment, stopped humming.

Woble shot her head up, letting out a whimper that might turn into another crying fit.

“Keep doing that!” Kurapika ordered, and Chrollo didn’t need to be told twice, resuming his humming.

They had been so concerned with quieting Woble down that they hadn’t noticed Oito’s return, the queen leaning against the doorframe with a smile on her face. It wasn’t until Chrollo turned, still rocking Woble in his arms as she began to fall asleep, that he noticed her.

“I can take her from here,” she said, walking across the room with her arms out. “She likes falling asleep to music, but I may have spoiled her to the point that it’s near impossible for her to fall asleep without some sort of tune,”

Oito reached for Woble, her daughter’s grip on Chrollo’s jacket tightening as she turned her head from her mother.

Oito let out a hearty laugh, the hardest she had laughed since this terrible journey had begun.

“It appears she wants to stay on your shoulder for her nap,” Oito teased, reaching her hand out to gently sift through Woble’s soft hair. “How did you calm her down?”

“I started humming a song,” Chrollo admitted, a hand supporting Woble’s back as he felt the steady rise and fall of her breathing. “I don’t remember where I heard it, though,”

“Did it go like this?”

Oito began to hum the song, rubbing soothing circles in between Woble’s shoulders.

Chrollo held his breath as he listened, the song that had been such a mystery to him being repeated back by the woman claiming to be his flesh and blood.

They were interrupted by the sound of Kurapika’s phone going off, the generic ringtone filling the hall. Chrollo held his breath, hoping that Woble wouldn’t wake up at the loud noise, but thankfully, she remained asleep.

“Hello?” Kurapika answered, eyes focused on the two in front of him. “Alright. I’m on my way,”

He hung up with a sigh, his shoulders slumping.

“Kurapika?” Oito was concerned at the sudden drop in his mood. “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong. It was Leorio. He said the results are ready,” Kurapika said. “I’ll go retrieve him,”

“Are you sure this is okay?” Leorio asked, following Kurapika down the corridor leading to the stairwell that would bring them to the top deck. “I don’t exactly have the same clearance as you, ya know,”

They stopped, the guards silent as they waited for a presentation of identification and authorization.

“It’ll be fine, Leorio,” Kurapika withdrew his badge, showing it for the royal guard. “You’ll be coming up here to give the queen her results and then you’re heading straight back to Tier Three. If anyone has an issue, they can bring it up to the Chairman,”

“I hope you’re right,” Leorio mumbled, following after Kurapika as he led them further into the Tier.

The mass amounts of wealth on display was enough to make Leorio sick. Growing up in poverty made him yearn for the comfort of wealth, but now, seeing the ornate decorations on the doors as they passed, the doorknobs made of gold, the air of superiority and sophistication made him feel sick to his stomach.

His university tuition cost less than a single door in these halls, and that disgusted him.

“We’re almost there,” Kurapika said, feeling his shoulders tense at the anticipation of having to be in the same room as the Phantom Troupe. “Aren’t you breaking Mizaistom’s conditions?”

“Well, it’s not like I can leave Kalluto with the Chairman,” Leorio said, looking over his shoulder at Kalluto. The youngest Zoldyck was following silently, fan snapped open to cover the lower half of his face as he stared at the area around him. Unlike Leorio, he wasn’t taking in the wealth on display, he was making notes of potential exits and advantage points in the instance of a fight.

Leorio had mixed feelings bringing Kalluto along. He could have left the kid in his own cabin, with books and his phone to play games on or something, but he just couldn’t bring it in him to leave Kalluto all by himself. The kid looks so sad to be alone that he just wanted to make him feel better, so having him tag along was the best option. The part that had Leorio concerned was that he was bringing the youngest Troupe member back to the Troupe, and there were two possible outcomes he could think of.

One, the Troupe assumed he kidnapped Kalluto and they try to fight him.

Two, Kalluto rejoins with them, and Leorio has to take the brunt of Mizai’s wrath for breaking his promise.

After Yorknew, Leorio was a bit keener on scenario two. He had heard of how dangerous they were despite not witnessing their abilities and didn’t want to find out through experience.

He nearly ran into Kurapika once he came to a halt in front of the doors leading to the eighth queen’s chambers, sensing the tension.

Leorio placed a hand on Kurapika’s shoulder, fighting the urge to frown once he flinched.

“It’ll be alright,” Leorio promised, even though he wasn’t sure himself. “I’ll always be your getaway driver, no matter what,”

The sentiment did not go unmissed, Kurapika shaking his head as he fought the urge to smile.

“Alright, Leorio. Please, don’t make an idiot of yourself. I know how hard it may be for you, but I can’t have you acting like a fool,”

“Hey,” the protest died on Leorio’s lips as the doors swung open, revealing the queen he had heard so much about from Kurapika.

Leorio could do without Chrollo at her side, head turned slightly to see them, face neutral of emotion but eyes simmering with a subtle anger. The last Leorio had seen the Spider boss, he had been walking away, face bruised from where Kurapika’s fist had connected multiple times, unbothered by the situation he was in.

Now, there was something unhinged about him. Leorio wasn’t as good at sensing nen as Kurapika and Killua were, but there was something heavy hanging around Chrollo like a dark cloud, a kind of malicious nen that could become a storm of destruction if left unchecked.

It felt like grief.

“Oh, Kurapika, you’re back!” Oito smiled. “We were just discussing-”

“Kalluto?” Chrollo’s voice was soft, eyebrow raised as he looked between Kurapika and Leorio to the small Spider hiding behind the medic. “You’re alright,”

He let out a small sigh of relief, glad to know that Hisoka hadn’t gotten to their youngest.

“Kalluto’s here?” Franklin perked his head up, focus on the card game they were playing abandoned.

“Hey, kid! Come join the game!” Bonolenov waved a hand.

Leorio was a bit shocked listening to the chatter of Phantom Troupe as they greeted Kalluto, the seven of them sitting at the table in a circle, a pile of cards in between them.

Kalluto looked up to Leorio, as if silently asking permission to rejoin them. He knew that Leorio could run the risk of getting in trouble if he agreed, but the wavering look on the medic’s face told him all he needed to know.

“Go ahead, kid,” he said, motioning for him to walk past him. “Just, remember what I said,”

Kalluto nodded, a smile coming to his face as he headed into the room.

“Kalluto,”

He stopped, halfway to where the Troupe was. Chrollo’s tone suddenly reminded him of his father’s, deep and serious, and Kalluto felt himself tense at the prospect of getting scolded. He knew he was going to get scolded for getting caught, even though it was Illumi’s fault, and they would kick him out and he would have to go home-

Kalluto tensed further when he noticed Chrollo had walked in front of him, staring down with eyes that had seemed to have lost their edge, a small smile gracing his face.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” he said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Kalluto nodded and heading towards where Bonolenov waved him over, mood noticeably lighter.

“You have the results?” Oito asked eagerly, eyes darting to the manila folder tucked under Leorio’s arm.

“Let’s talk somewhere private, shall we?” Leorio asked, letting Kurapika and Oito lead the way to a smaller room.

“Hey, I’m coming, too,” Shizuku said, setting her cards down as she went to go follow.

“Me, too,” Phinks followed suit, following after the conjurer.

Feitan got up after Phinks, trailing behind him.

“I wanna hear, too,” Nobunaga got up, reaching down to ruffle Kalluto’s hair as he passed him. “Sorry, kid, we’ll catch you up in a bit,”

Machi wordlessly got up and followed, giving a stern look over her shoulder for the others to stay put.

Leorio was really pissed off at how cramped the room had gotten.

“I thought this was just something between the Queen and jackass over here,” Leorio jerked a thumb to point at Chrollo. “What the hell are you all doing here?!”

“We wanna know, too!” Phinks snapped. “Just shut up and tell us the results!”

“Who is this guy?” Shizuku asked, tugging on the sleeve of Chrollo’s jacket. “Do we know him?”

“Just disregard him for now,” Chrollo said.

“What were the results, Leorio?” Kurapika asked, his voice gentle when speaking to the medic.

“Oh, right,” Leorio looked down at the paperwork, flipping over to the page with the results. “Well, congratulations, Queen Oito, Chrollo. You’re related,”

Oito clapped, letting out a happy cheer as she bounced on the heels of her feet. The gathered Troupe members looked between their leader and the queen, taking in their resemblances, knowing the answer Chrollo had been wanting for the past two days.

His face was unreadable as he opened his mouth.

“No,”

“There’s no denying science,” Leorio slapped the paperwork into Chrollo’s hands. “Ninety-nine point nine-nine percent similarities in your DNA. That’s your sister,”

He looked down at the paperwork, reading over the lab results.

“Can you all please wait at the entryway to Tier Two for me? I need to discuss something with the queen in private,” Chrollo said, tone cold.

Kurapika stared between the two siblings, face set in a deep frown as he followed Leorio out of the room, unsure of what was going to happen. He shot a glare towards Chrollo, as if silently telling him to not hurt the queen’s feelings, before letting the door shut behind them.

“I’m going,” Chrollo said, brushing past Oito’s shoulder as he headed towards the room he had been staying in.

Oito frowned, her feet carrying her as she followed after him, watching as he quickly packed.

“Where are you going, Chrollo?”

“I’m leaving. _We’re_ leaving,” he said, storming out of the room he had been given, bag in hand. “And it’d be best if you didn’t try to find me,” 

“Why? I don’t understand. You’re my brother, you _have_ to stay here,”

“I can’t be your brother,” Chrollo said. “You’ll be better off if you simply pretend you’ve never met me and that I never existed,”

“Why are you saying that?” Oito hated the way her smile faded to a frown. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you, how long I’ve searched for you-”

“I’m never going to be the child in your memories, Oito. No matter what, this fantasy you have of this little brother you’ve always dreamed of finding coming back and wanting to stay by your side will never come to fruition,”

The words cut deep, Oito feeling herself frown.

“You aren’t giving me a chance,” she argued. “You’re shutting me out. All I want to do is to get to know my own brother-”

“Someone’s after me,” Chrollo interrupted. “And he’s killed too many people that have been close to me. He’d have a field day if he found out about you,”

“I…I’m afraid I don’t understand,”

“Do you really not know who I am, or are you feigning ignorance because you’re afraid the truth is going to hurt you?”

Oito was silent as she watched Chrollo shrug off his coat, revealing his bared bicep. There was no denying the spider tattoo, twelve legs and the head, a zero on the body of the spider.

“I’m Chrollo Lucilfer, leader of the Phantom Troupe,”

“I know,”

“And you’re aware that I killed most of your bodyguard’s clansmen singlehandedly?”

Oito bit her lip, a nervous habit she had developed as a child. She had heard of the infamous Kurta massacre, the gruesome details the major theme of the news within the first two weeks after it occurred. Bodies had been strung up by threads, sliced through with blades, as well as pulverized into nonrecognition. All the bodies had been desecrated, their eyes pulled from their sockets.

Children, as young as Woble, beaten and killed and tortured in front of their parents to invoke a more vibrant color of the eyes. Spouses killed in front of one another, forced to watch loved ones murdered to fester the anguish, the despair of loss, the anger before they, too, were disposed of. It had been claimed as one of the worst events in modern human history, and definitely the most gruesome. 

“That was you,” she admitted.

“Not just me, but yes. The founding members and I are responsible for the Kurta massacre,”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you…” Oito watched him slowly put his coat back on. “Why did you commit such a heinous act? What did you gain?”

“We gained a name for ourselves, and Class A bounties,”

“You didn’t answer my question,”

“In all honesty, I have no answer,” Chrollo admitted. “The Kurta eyes are a beautiful color, so I thought they would be valuable. I was right, so there’s no real reason other than monetary gain, I suppose. I don’t regret it, nor do I like what I did. I just did it,”

“Is that why you’re being chased?”

“No. That’s something unrelated to the Kurtas. Regardless, if he finds out you and I are related, he will kill you, and violently. There would be no mercy killing.”

The room felt too dense despite being the only people in it.

Chrollo made his way to the door, his hand hovering over the knob.

“If you care about your daughter’s life, you’ll forget that this all happened, and accept that you don’t have a brother, and I don’t have a sister,”

Oito felt her heart break. There was no way, she tried to deny as she shut her eyes, that the sweet little boy she remembered as her little brother would be responsible for all that pain, all that destruction.

Yet, somehow, deep in her mind, the thought churning her stomach, she could see it. She could see him, standing triumphant as he had at Heaven’s Arena, relishing in stealing the life from an innocent person.

He was right, she realized, as she looked at the back of his head, at the inverted cross on the plane of his back. It was best she forget he ever existed for the sake of Woble’s safety.

Then why, she thought as she fell to her knees, curling in on herself to hide her crying face, did it hurt to let him push himself away?

He was her brother, yet he had done so many horrible, unspeakable things. She should forget the man she had only known for two days, but when she squeezed her eyes shut as he opened the door, all she could see was the toddler looking up at her with slate grey eyes full of curiosity, demanding she read him another story, giggling as she pressed kisses to his cheeks and told him that she loved her dear little brother. 

The door shut behind him, silent as a thief in the night, and Oito was left hurting more than she had without him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was quite the drag to write, not going to lie, but I really just wanted to write Chrollo holding a baby. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Feel free to comment and let me know what you think! You can also reach me on[ my tumblr](https://oceans-grey.tumblr.com/) for any questions and I post all chapter updates on there as well!


	12. Please Read: Author's Note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This note will be deleted, I just wanted to post an update since I haven't updated since the beginning of the month.

Hi all,

I'm so happy that a lot of you are reading this fic. What started as a stupid little thought grew into a huge work without me even realizing it, and I'm forever thankful for your kudos, comments and hits.

That being said, I personally strayed a little too far from my original plan for this fic, so this will be under revisions/hiatus for a while. I hopefully will have a new chapter or two within two or so weeks, depending on when the creative muse strikes. I was super unhappy with the last two chapters, and I've backed them up on my laptop, but I don't like how they fit with how I'm trying to write the story.

Apologies to everyone who was caught up! I'm super sorry and I was really excited to finally include Hisoka (and he's definitely still a part of this story), but the plot wasn't progressing in the direction I wanted it to, which made me decide to edit and remove some material.

Thank you all for reading this! This note will be deleted as soon as I post the next chapter for this, as well as the note in the summary of the fic.  
See you all soon!


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